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katiexpunk · 6 months

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Sex On Fire, Part 1 | Pairing Firefighter!Joel Miller X Fem!Reader

Series Summary: You're a country girl in the big city, thanks to your generous aunt. You expected to have adventures your first year in New York, but what you didn't expect was for your hot, firefighter neighbor, Joel, to be part of them. Part 1 Summary: You move to New York, after a little coaxing from your aunt. You meet your new neighbor, Joel, and quickly learn he's a Captain with the NYFD and good with his hands. Rating: 18+ Minors DNI Word Count: ~6.7K Warnings: Sexual tension, sexual tension, sexual tension. This one is dripping in it. No age gap specified. No explicit smut (yet, there's uh...gonna be a lot in part 2), but a nice lead up to it in the end that will probably blue ball you. Groping. Alcohol. Hardcore flirting. Fleetwood Mac, The Rolling Stones, and Kings of Leon song references. Uniform kink. Joel has a hard on for seeing reader in his shirt. Reader's mom has passed. Texas/small town vibes. New York City. There are no specific descriptors for reader, except that she has hair. Ya'll, these two are just down for each other so fucking bad it's not even funny. Authors Note: This one is for my darling moot @darkheartgatita. Pia, thanks for putting Firefighter!Joel into my brain. I hope you enjoy. As always, thank you to my Slutty, Smutty, Sister @sydneyinacoma who inspires me every day and shares her filthy thoughts on the reg. And to everyone who gives my little blog love -- I fucking love you all so much. Part 2, Fall and Winter, will drop next Saturday.

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S P R I N G Spring blooms, bringing with it a new beginning for you. Of all the places you’d thought you would be, New York was not one of them.

Life back in Texas wasn't terrible, a bit dull sometimes, but not awful.

Yet, in the mundane moments, your mind often drifted to daydreams – visions of swapping your Levi's for a sleek black dress and trading quiet farmland for the lively hum of city bars. You’d think of Samantha from Sex and the City sitting on your porch at sunset, drinking Bud Light, wishing your fairy godmother would appear and magically turn it into a dry Martini.

That was until three weeks ago, when your rich aunt, visiting from New York, decided to sprinkle a bit of magic into your life.

“I’m gonna move to Italy for a while,” she casually said over family dinner as if she was just announcing that she was going to the store for milk. You should have been surprised, but she’s always been the kind to never stick around for too long. Single and child-free, she’s spent her adult life dancing to her free-spirited rhythm, bouncing around from one place to the next. Not because she had to, but because she could. You, on the other hand, were the total opposite. After your mom passed away, leaving the cocoon of the familiar felt like too much. Despite your aunt's protests and encouragement to just go, you resisted, not wanting to leave behind your dad and the comfortable life you'd known. But if there's one thing you've learned about your aunt, it's that she's relentless – and yanking you out of your comfort zone was precisely what she wanted, and she had just the plan to do it.

She handed you the keys to her Lower East Side apartment, turning your once silly little daydreams into a reality. “Sweetie, you need this – you’re meant for so much more, your dad will be fine. Please go,” she encouraged.

Despite your initial reluctance, you caved, and before you knew it, you were on a plane bound for JFK.

++++ You feel like a small fish in a big pond as you navigate the city. Trying to figure out the subway turns into a whole saga of you getting lost more than once. You eventually find the right borough, but not without a fair share of unhelpful people brushing you off along the way. Yep, you're definitely not in Texas anymore.

While walking through the city, it hits you that a new pair of shoes is in order; something made clear to you by the little blister on the back of your heel that’s screaming at you. Despite the annoyance, you’re enjoying the walk to the apartment, your new home. The city's buzzing with life, and even the faint smell of urine in the air doesn't bother you. It's a wild, trippy feeling to be in the city, to feel like the main character of your own story.

You grab your phone, itching to double-check the building your aunt texted and ensure you have the right address. Remembering her advice about the unassuming exterior but spectacular view, you get ready for the big reveal. The key affixed to a keychain with a little apple on it meets the lock, and as you turn it, the door swings open, revealing a spacious wooden staircase.

As you step inside, you notice there's a bit of mail scattered on the slightly dusty floor. You collect the envelopes and magazines with your aunt's name on them and neatly stack the other pieces for Joel Miller into a pile on the bottom step.

After climbing the – Jesus, really fucking narrow – stairs, you're faced with doors opposite each other. While a brief doubt nudges you to recheck the apartment number, your gut tells you that the door with the welcome mat showing lemons and a pot of fake flowers is the one — a stark difference from its neighbor with a simple grey mat and no decor. Trusting your instincts, you decide that the lively entrance is the one.

As you step inside, you're greeted by a cozy space that, despite its age, radiates warmth and character. The walls are adorned with paintings that seem to tell stories of bygone eras, while rays of sunlight filter through the window, revealing glimpses of the bustling cityscape below.

Though small, the apartment is meticulously decorated, each corner telling a tale of adventures and cultural escapades. Remnants of your aunt’s travels, collected with care, add a touch of global flair to the modest space. Posters from Broadway plays hang proudly on the walls, as do family pictures. It’s lived-in; the kind of lived-in that feels comfy and embraces you like a warm hug.

You look at the frames on the wall and pause when you see one of your favorites – a photo of you as a little girl, smushed between your mom and your aunt, a cake three sizes bigger than your tiny head lit up with birthday candles in front of you. You can't help but trace the edges of the frame with your fingertips, connecting with the warmth radiating from your mother's beaming smile. Miss you, mom escapes your lips as your eyes linger on the photograph for a heartbeat longer before the rest of the room demands your attention.

In the compact kitchen, a handwritten note from your aunt beckons, strategically placed beside a bottle of wine on top of a stack of takeout menus. Her words resonate with warmth and encouragement. "Welcome to your new home! I am so proud of you for taking me up on my offer. Disregard the bedroom chaos—I started painting the walls but didn't quite finish before taking off. Feel free to pick up where I left off if the mood strikes. And if you ever need a hand with anything, Joel Miller across the way is a nice guy. I've already told him that you’ll be staying for a while, or who knows, maybe forever. Love you!" The paper carries the unmistakable fragrance of her perfume, and a smile graces your face after you finish reading it.

Setting the heartfelt note aside, your attention shifts to the menu for Sang Garden, a vibrant pink post-it exclaiming, "Right down the street! Super yummy!" Hunger gnaws at your stomach; the last meal was a distant memory from this morning, and you're ravenous. Without hesitation, you dial the number on the menu, your choice a steadfast favorite: orange chicken. “10 minutes,” the older lady on the phone tells you, not bothering to say goodbye before hanging up. Huh, efficient, you think.

As the aroma of anticipation fills the air, you finish unpacking your suitcase and weave through your new space until your food is ready. Only having to go down a flight of stairs and less than a block down the street to pick it up is a new feeling for you. If you wanted something like this at home you’d have to drive at least 20 minutes to pick it up.

You finish the entirety of the meal within minutes curled up on the couch, Sex and the City on the T.V.. Your aunt was right, it’s good. Probably the best orange chicken you’ve ever had in your entire life; just the right amount of zest and sweetness. You can already tell you’ll be a regular. Everyone always talks about the pizza in New York, but nobody bothered to tell you about the Chinese. You can tell you’ll probably have a lot of moments like that, discovering new things for yourself instead of hearing about it from magazines or seeing the photos on Instagram.

With your belly now full of the sticky goodness, you settle into bed for the night. You stare at the ceiling, paying no mind to the smile that’s been plastered on your face for the past three hours. You feel giddy, like a little girl seeing the stars for the first time. You’re doing it. You’re really doing it.

The city is still thrumming to life, but the distant sound of sirens and honks eventually turns to white noise as you drift off to sleep.

++++

The next morning, you rise with purpose; new life breathed into you. You brew a cup of coffee and decide to savor it on the fire escape, enjoying the not-yet-thick spring, and still slightly chilly, spring air. As the city stirs awake beneath you, you’re determined to craft an agenda for the day. With another few days to spare before your new job starts, your thoughts drift to the bedroom, where the abandoned paint cans await.

It's been a while since you've had the chance to dive into something genuinely productive, or creative for that matter, and you decide that this is the perfect opportunity. Your aunt chose a deep, rich shade of green, one that harmonizes seamlessly with the space; not too dark, but not puke or pea green, either. It’s pretty. She always has had good taste.

And while you like the color, it’s not particularly one you’d like to see splattered all over your clothing, having only brought what you could fit into a small suitcase. Your aunt must have something, you think. The woman has more clothes than a department store and there is no way she could have brought them all to Italy, although you don’t put it past her to try.

You make your way to the guest bedroom and rummage through the dresser located there. The top drawer is full of nothing but scrapbooks, the middle drawer has only sweaters, but luck strikes in the bottom drawer, where you locate a handful of old shirts.

You pull out a dark blue, oversized “New York Fire Department” cotton t-shirt; the front of it has an emblem, and the back says “Rescue 1 FDNY” in faded blocky white letters, obviously well-loved. This will do, you tell yourself, quickly exchanging your tiny crop top for the large shirt. It hangs over your body, the bottom nearly hitting your knees. Why your aunt has such a large shirt in her collection you’ll never know, but you wager it’s probably from one of her many “friends” over the years.

++++

The sounds of Fleetwood Mac's "Rumours" fill the room, you stand in the center of the bedroom, paintbrush in hand, ready to transform the space. The nostalgic chords of Stevie Nicks' voice in Dreams infuse the air, blending with the scent of fresh paint as you dip the brush into the can, and begin. “Like a heartbeat drives you mad,” you sing, slightly off-key, but no one is around to listen and you don’t mind. “Thunder only happens when it’s rainingggggg,” you belt, using the paintbrush as a microphone.

While most of the paint makes it on the walls, you have to admit that painting isn’t your strong suit and a fair amount of it has splashed back onto your face, shirt, and even your hair. You’re having fun, more fun than you’ve had in a while, even if you make a mess while doing it. Not like you’re gonna see anyone today anyway.

“Players only love you when they’re plaaaaaying…” doing your best Stevie twirl.

More and more green covers the walls, but as you’re about to get started on the final white wall, you’re interrupted by a loud steady stream of knocks at your door.

You hit pause on the music, and make your way to the door, unsure of who would possibly be knocking. You peer through the peephole to take a look, but you can only see the back of a man in a simple white shirt, his back turned to face away from the door. You undo the chain lock and swing the door open.

As the man pivots to meet your gaze, his presence sweeps over you, an unexpected force that leaves you momentarily disarmed. He’s handsome in a way that unmoors you; a mass of a man with broad shoulders, sun-kissed skin, and sculpted biceps that redefine your sense of composure. Whoa.

“Hi,” you murmur, your eyes conveying a blend of softness and curiosity, "Can I help you?"

The man looks at you, and you feel yourself heat under the attention of his gaze. His eyes gently caress your frame; lingering a little too long on the emblem sewn into the fabric, just above your breast.

"Uh," he clears his throat, his hand rising to his face, fingers subtly grazing the beard hair on his cheek, as if grappling for words. "Yeah, well – no, uh," he stumbles, the words caught in a momentary struggle. "Hi, ‘m Joel Miller, I live across the way," he greets, angling his body to signal to the door directly across the foyer. “Oh right, my aunt told me about you you,” you say, introducing yourself, voice smooth like honey. “She mentioned you were a nice guy and to call you if I ever needed anything,” you say, taking up space in front of him by leaning into the door. “Just stopping by to say hi, then? Or do you need a cup of sugar or something like that?” you ask with a playful tone.

Suddenly, the last thing he wants to do is admit that there's something you could help him with—like turning down your music. He likes Fleetwood Mac as much as the next guy, but the last three days on shift have left him craving peace, not a soundtrack reverberating through the thin walls.

Plus, he wasn’t expecting you to be so damn attractive.

And he definitely wasn’t expecting to be wearing his shirt when you answered the door.

“Ha, no, don’t need any sugar,” he chuckles, “just thought I’d make myself known.” He pauses, eyes locked onto yours. You notice the subtle flecks of amber in his deep brown eyes and the furrow of his brow. He’s painfully handsome. Just as you’re about to say something, he breaks the silence first, “But I'll let you get back to whatever it is you’re doin’...you look busy,” he tilts his chin to the paint that’s splotched over your bare legs. You can tell he’s looking for the story behind the mess.

His left hand leaves his pocket and he places it on the doorframe. He leans into it, and your eyes catch the firmness of his bicep flexing under the strain of his lean before meeting his face once more.

“Cute shirt, by the way” he says, his voice low and even.

“Oh thanks, you like it?” you ask, pulling the fabric out in a tent from the center, noticing the little splatters of paint as you do. “It’s my aunt’s, I just borrowed it while I finish up some painting.”

“Yeah, I have the same one,” he adds, “looks a helluva lot better on you than it does me, though,” a little laugh leaves his chest and his cheeks flush, a little embarrassed that he just said that. Fuck, it’s been so long since he’s tried to flirt with a woman.

Your skin prickles with heat, and you’re suddenly very self-aware of what a wreck you must look like, but you decide to be bold anyway. “Maybe we’ll have to compare sometime,” you playfully retort.

“Yeah, maybe we will,” he responds, looking you up and down, hoping the meaning behind his words isn’t too obvious.

“Well if ya ever need anything, ‘m just across the way,” he says, dropping his hand from the doorframe, hitting his thigh with a slight sound of a pat. “Nice to meet ya, Darlin’,” he says. You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker down to your chest once more, your stiff nipples now peeking through the fabric. He turns on his heels and turns his back to walk back to his apartment.

“Nice to meet you, Joel,” you purr. His head peers over his shoulder back at you, and the corners of his lips turn up in a little smirk.

Oh god.

You’re so fucked.

++++

Later that night, you text your aunt that you just met Joel Miller. You curse her for not telling you how incredibly hot he is. You also tell her that you decided to finish the painting, sending a selfie of you in front of the freshly updated walls with the message. You also add that you borrowed one of her shirts and that you’ll do your best to get the paint out of it.

Her response causes your breath to hitch in your throat, and your stomach swirls into a tight knot.

“The walls look amazing! Oh and by the way, that’s not my shirt, it’s Joel’s. I must have forgotten to give it back to him; the shared laundry downstairs sometimes causes mix-ups. Be a doll and give it back to him, will ya? Oh and quarters for the machines are in the clay pot next to the door.”

Fuck. Of course you would answer the door to your incredibly hot neighbor, covered in paint, in his shirt. You shake your head in embarrassment.

You look down at the shirt and notice just how much paint is all over it. You strip it from your body, bring it over to the sink, and begin to scrub the paint out of it with dish soap. As you watch the paint fade into the warm water, you notice the tag on the inside of the shirt and the rank inscribed in permanent marker on it.

Your fingers prune in the water, but you eventually get all of the paint out of the fabric. Satisfied with your cleaning job, you hang it up to dry and scribble out a note.

The following morning, on your way out to explore the city, you leave it neatly folded on Joel’s doorstep. You don’t bother to knock, you’re certain you might combust from embarrassment if you did.

Shortly after, on his way to work, Joel opens the door and notices the shirt by his boot, a little envelope placed on top of it.

“You could have told me it was your shirt, Captain Miller.”

Joel smirks. The cat’s out of the bag on that little secret then. He places it inside and lets out a little sigh. The image of your perky nipples, exposed legs, and messy paint-riddled hair flashes in his brain.

God, he wishes you would have kept it.

S U M M E R

As spring transitions into summer, the city experiences a gradual warming trend. Cherry blossoms and tulips from spring slowly give way to vibrant green foliage. Parks become lively with people enjoying the pleasant weather, and outdoor events become more frequent. The temperature rises, and there's a noticeable shift towards a warmer atmosphere with longer days.

It’s a shift you also feel in yourself, having found your niche, carving out your place in the ecosystem of the city. You’ve gradually adjusted, figured out how to successfully navigate the complexities of the subway system, and are starting to rely less and less on Google Maps to get around. You frequent a bodega around the corner from you, know where to find a decent bagel, and are a recognizable regular at Sang Garden.

Your new job keeps you busy. It’s tough work being a bartender in the city, but it’s granted you more than one opportunity to meet people from all walks of life, people you’d never get the opportunity to meet back in your hometown.

People like the gregarious and charismatic trader, who’s more than happy to make it clear he works in the financial district, even when nobody asks. People like the countless young professionals unwinding after a long day with their colleagues; some with sexual tension so obvious you can taste it. Designers. Architects. Engineers. Writers. Musicians. Actors. You don’t like them all, but you don’t have to, you’ll never see most of them more than once anyway.

You quickly learn the art of making a good martini, one you think would make Samantha proud. It’s all so posh. So far from your usual. But the money is good, and without having to pay rent – a luxury you now realize; having almost fainted when your coworker told you how much he pays in rent – it allows you to pocket most of it.

Your first few months in New York have been good, although a tad lonely. Making friends was never really a strong suit of yours, and you’re finding the city to be a particularly hard place to get to know people in any real way. Most of your free time is spent curled up with a good book or watching Friends for the millionth time, wishing Central Perk was a real place.

You see Joel in passing now and then, the in-between times when he’s coming home from work, and you’re just leaving for yours. Sometimes you pass each other on the stairs, and you have to angle your bodies side-to-side just to fit on the narrow stairs as you navigate around one another. You sometimes have to collect your composure when you leave for work and notice the faint smell of his cologne still in the hallway, it smells so good it makes you dizzy.

You find excuses to talk to him every now and then – a squeaky fire detector, to hand him his mail, or even for a stupid cup of sugar. Every time you find yourself knocking on his door, the butterflies congregate in masses as if preparing to migrate. You feel like a school girl with a crush for the first time, but as far as you can tell, Joel doesn’t feel the same, and you’re okay with that. At least that’s what you try to tell yourself.

The exchanges are always short; little blips in the grand scene of time, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling like you might faint under the intensity of his scorching gaze. Which doesn’t help, considering it’s already sweltering outside.

You severely underestimated how hot summer would be. Of course, you’re used to the oppressive Texas sun, but something about the way the buildings and concrete reflect the rays makes it feel like New York is at least 10x hotter.

The temperature in your apartment isn’t much better than outside. The air hangs heavy inside as you lay on your mattress, clad in only a bra and underwear, on crisp white sheets, attempting to cool yourself with a damp towel on your forehead. You listen to the feeble hum of the wall crying out for help.

As luck would have it, the overworked unit decides to give in to the heat. Beads of sweat form on your forehead as you attempt to fix it, but it’s pointless. You stare at the lifeless unit, realizing that the city’s relentless heat has claimed it as a victim. Time for a new one.

Once the sun dips past the skyline, you venture out to your local hardware store to grab a new one. You wish you would have had some forethought to bring a cart or something, not thinking about the fact that you were going to have to carry the heavy unit eight city blocks. Coulda, shoulda, woulda, you think to yourself. Once back to your apartment, you balance the quirky box on your hip, holding it steady with one arm as you fumble to grab the key from your purse outside the entrance of the building. Your cheeks are warm, you’re drenched in sweat even at this hour, and your hair is starting to stick to the nape of your neck. You manage to grab it, but inadvertently drop it, your fingers clammy.

“Shit,” you mutter, frustrated and hot.

“Need some help there, Darlin’?” Joel asks, making his way up the stoop. You turn to face him and oh.

Of all the times you’ve seen Joel, you’ve never seen him in uniform. The sight catches you off guard. His crisp, navy blue uniform emphasizes his broad shoulders and neatly tucked shirt, the shiny FDNY badge on his chest. He flashes a charming smile, revealing a hint of dimples, as he picks up your fallen key with ease. You’re not sure how he always manages to look so put together, a stark contrast to the way you always seem to look in front of him.

"Rough day?" he asks, unlocking the door, and for a moment, you forget the oppressive heat, captivated by his charm. “Here, lemme take that for you,” he offers, and you kindly accept. You shift the box out of your arms into his, and your stomach swoops when you watch the way his biceps flex as he grabs the unit with ease.

Grateful for the assistance, you offer a sheepish smile, “Yeah, you could say that” you reply, opening the door, holding it open for him. He begins to ascend the staircase ahead of you, giving you a full view of his ass in his uniform pants; it’s toned, and his thick thighs match. You walk behind him, trying to ignore the stickiness that’s beginning to pool in your underwear. You allow yourself to perv out for a moment, at least while his back is to you. He’s just helping you out, stop being weird.

Joel waits at the top of the steps for you to open your door. Once unlocked, you enter and he follows behind you. “Oh shit, it’s hotter than hell in here,” he says once inside, the irony is not lost on you that a literal man who fights fires for a living thinks it’s hotter than hell. He bends to place the box down near the front door and rises to full height, bringing both hands to his hips. You notice the little sheen of sweat that has now collected on his thick neck, fighting the impulse to lap up the perspiration. “You’re telling me, I’m rendering lard,” you say, letting your Southern roots shine through. You cringe a little at yourself, watering your accent down to not stick out as much, but you’re reminded of the age-old saying you can take the girl out of the country…

You wipe the back of your hand on your forehead to push away the sweat that’s been collecting there all day and look at him. “Thanks for the help carrying it up,” you say, offering him a kind smile.

“No problem at all, need some help installing it? These units can be tricky,” he asks, trying his best to ignore the fact that your white shirt has gone see-through from your sweat, allowing him a perfect view of your breasts. No bra again, he notes. He shifts his stance a little, trying to prevent his cock from hardening at the sight.

“Are you sure?” you ask, a little unsure, but deep down you know you need the help. As much as you’d like to think of yourself as an independent and capable woman, you’ve never been one to be good with anything mechanical, and the heat has left your brain feeling like the static of a T.V. channel with no reception.

“Course. I’m a servant to public safety. Can’t have you accidentally pushing it out the window and crushing a person below, it’d be a lot of paperwork” he chuckles and takes out a knife from his pocket to undo the tape on the box. It’s an ordinary act, yet somehow you’re mesmerized by his dexterity and competency.

Midway through the process, Joel pauses, feeling the heat, and glances at you with a lighthearted grin. “Mind if I take this off?” he asks, tugging at the collar of the uniform shirt. You nod, suddenly feeling warmer than before. “Sure, go ahead.”

His large fingers fumble with the buttons on the shirt, eventually revealing a white tank top underneath. The fabric clings to him, highlighting his defined chest, and a little bit of belly. You practically drool at the sight, once again resisting an impulse to want to sink your flesh into the softness above his belt.

He has an awful farmer's tan, but he wears it well; his forearms are a nice shade of golden and his shoulders are pale. You see from the lack of collar on the tank that he has a bare chest. He throws the uniform shirt onto a nearby chair and goes back to work installing the unit. You watch as he works to position it in the window, stealing glances at his glistening skin as he does. You think you’re being sly about it, but Joel can tell, he can feel your eyes heavy like bowling balls on him.

“So, how long have you been a firefighter?” you ask.

“About 15 years,” he responds. “Sorta always knew I wanted to do it, I was a contractor for a while, but wasn’t my thing.”

“Oh no? You seem like you’re pretty good with your hands,” you reply, your words suggestive.

“Never said I wasn’t, Darlin,’” he replies, shooting you a wink.

He plugs the unit in, and the screen comes to life. He sets the temperature as low as it will go, and the fan on high; the unit is about to put in overtime to make the air tolerable again.

“Well, that should do it,” straightening back up from his bent-over position, clapping his hands together as if to dust the task off. “Probably gonna take a while for it to cool down in here. You’re uh, more than welcome to hang out at mine for the time being. Don’t need you overheating on me,” trying to mask his excitement at you being in his space by carding his fingers through his salt and pepper curls.

You glance at the unit, and you can tell he’s right. “Alright, why not,” you say, offering him a smile. “Just gonna use the restroom fast,” you say, looking for an excuse to make yourself at least somewhat presentable and confirm that you don’t smell like a sweaty subway car.

Inspecting yourself in the harsh, exposing light of the bathroom, you grimace at your appearance. Not that you’d been expecting to look your best, but still. You pat the extra moisture off your skin with a clean towel, when you notice that nipples are straining against the fabric of your wet t-shirt, leaving nothing to the imagination. You briefly consider changing shirts, but the cheeky side of you decides to leave it be. You give yourself a quick smile and internal encouragement in the mirror and you step out of the bathroom.

Joel waits in the foyer by the door for you, taking the opportunity to learn a little more about you, drinking in the details of your space for any glimmers of insight it might give him about your life.

He’s been in the space before, but it’s different this time – updated. It still has many of the same things your aunt had put up, but you’ve added new additions to the walls; photos of you with friends, and family, and vinyl covers in frames. His eyes gravitate to a photo of you at your college graduation; your smile ear to ear, a bottle of champagne in your hands. You always seem happy. He likes that about you. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t look for a photo of you with another guy, a hint that you might already be taken, but he’s relieved when he doesn’t find one.

The bathroom door opens with a soft creak, and you stroll out, shooting him a casual but confident smile. As you do, you casually tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, giving off an easygoing vibe. It's a simple move, but there's a certain charm to it that doesn't go unnoticed by Joel.

“Ready?” you ask, and he clears his throat, trying to hide his pleasure that you opted not to change your still slightly transparent shirt. “Let’s get outta here,” he says, yanking on the handle, the door groans and opens with a loud creak. “Don’t wanna hit traffic.” Oh god, that’s a dad joke if you’ve ever heard one. You try to hide the stupid smile that graces your face, but Joel sees it, and matches it. Your shoulder brushes against his chest as you walk through the door, and Joel straightens in response, a little tingle shooting up his spine from the brief touch. Get a fucking grip, Miller, he thinks to himself, pulling the door closed behind him.

++++

Once inside his apartment, you gasp. It’s not at all what you expected.

If his front doorstep was any indication, you expected his apartment to be full of Ikea furniture, bare walls, and maybe a fake plant in the corner somewhere. You’re pleasantly surprised when you find that it’s the exact opposite; you feel like you’ve just wanted into some swanky bar. The air smells like palo santo, but above all, it’s cool. You let out a sigh of relief.

“Can I get you a beer” he asks, and you nod your head in response. He walks into the kitchen, and you’re mesmerized by his space. It’s a similar layout to your apartment, but somehow it feels bigger, even a tad cozier, plus he has exposed brick, a detail you wish your apartment had.

“Your apartment is amazing,” you tell him, spinning around to get a full 360 view of the space. You hear him yell something like thanks from the kitchen.

You find your seat on the cognac-colored couch and run your hand up and down the texture of it. The leather is cool on your skin, and your body temperature slowly begins to return to normal.

Joel returns from the kitchen, and hands you a Bud Light. And for once, you don’t wish for it to turn into a martini. Now having spent a few months in the city, you’re starting to realize that you’re more of a bud girl than a cocktail girl, and that fairy godmothers are a tad overrated.

You’re not sure when he did it, but your ear tunes to the classic sound of Beast of Burden by the Rolling Stones playing in the background at a low volume, adding a funk you adore to the moment.

He finds a seat on the couch next to you and throws his arm behind you on the ledge. He crosses his legs over one another, and you squirm, not out of discomfort, but nerves.

“I am impressed with your apartment, it’s well decorated,” you compliment him, bringing the bottle of beer to your lips.

“Had a bit of help, ‘f I’m being honest,” he replies. Your stomach flips.

“Oh?” you say, a bit breathless, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Of course, he would have a girlfriend. You see it plain as day now, the feminine touches built into the apartment, hanging on the walls in plain sight, taunting you with the obvious. He even has like ten live plants for fucks sake. Joel Miller is taken.

“My daughter, Sarah,” he replies, bringing the beer to his mouth for another swig. You try not to make your sigh of relief too obvious. “Oh!” you squeak and turn your body to face him. You don’t know if you’ve scooted closer or if he did, but your thighs are now touching.

“She’s studying interior design. Begged me this past year to let her fix up my apartment, and well…I didn’t have the heart ta say no,” he replies. “Said my apartment resembled a frat boys bachelor pad,” he lets out a gruff little chuckle and you smile at him.

His arm drifts close to you, his hand nearly touching your shoulder. It’s not quite there, but you can feel the heat, the electricity, his fingertips shoot to your skin. So much for cooling down.

“Well, if you didn’t decorate the space, what’s your favorite part about it then?” you ask, taking another swig at the bottle. Joel stares at your lips as they latch around the glass, admiring how plush and warm they look. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t wonder what they might look like around his cock.

“Ah, good question,” he says, bringing his hand to cover his crotch with the bottle, all while subtly trying to adjust himself from his previous thought. He’s surprised he even heard your question at all. “Probably the table over there,” he says, nodding his head back to signal to the dining room.

“Made it myself,” he says, a bit of pride in his voice.

You crane your neck to look, but can’t get a good view with how plush the cushions are. You slightly angle your body upwards, coming onto your knee on the couch to look, bringing your chest closer to Joel’s face.

“Well I’ll be damned, you really must be good with your hands,” you playfully tease, letting your body sink by his side once more, feeling the warmth he exudes. Your words cause his gaze to go dark. “Mhmm,” he murmurs, taking another sip of his beer, sure if he said any more he might regret it.

You notice the music switches to Kings of Leon, a favorite tune of yours echoing through the air. “Oh shit, I love this song,” you exclaim, barely able to contain your excitement, much to Joel’s delight.

“Yeaaaaaah, your sex is on fireeeee,” you belt, and you inadvertently tilt your beer bottle a little too far down in the process of your solo, and a splash of beer pours out onto Joel’s lap. The action abruptly causes you to stop.

“Ah, I’m so sorry,” you apologize profusely, setting the nearly empty bottle on the coffee table in front of you, noticing the box of tissues as you do.

“Don’t worry about it, Darlin’,” he says, voice mellow, placing his beer on the table, too.

You frantically grab a handful of tissues and bring them over to the wet spot pooling on Joel’s crotch. “Here, let me,” you say, dabbing at the liquid, the realization not fully hitting you that your hands are literally on his crotch until – oh.

Joel’s been walking the fine line of a stiff one all night, and your simple gesture throws him over the edge, the dabbing causing blood to rush to his cock.

You continue to blot at the liquid and notice him stiffening underneath you. A heavy rush of arousal courses through you, and heats your core. Joel’s hand darts to grab your wrist, the size of it completely swallowing up your entirety of it, his fingers wrapped around it, and you’re certain he feels your pulse quicken under his touch.

You look up at him with big doe eyes, only to find his own pupils are blown open wide with lust, his jaw tense. His other hand finds the side of your face, and he holds you up to look at him. You both pause there, letting the tension of the moment swallow you whole. He looks at you like you're a juicy summer peach, ripe for the picking.

His grip on your wrist softens, and you flatten your hand to palm at his growing bulge. Joel lets out a deep groan in response to the full contact. “Shit darlin’,” he says, voice wrecked. His hand drifts to the column of your neck, and he begins to pull you up so you’re face-to-face with him.

The anticipation builds, and just as your lips are about to meet, a sudden shrill sound shatters the moment – the fire alarm.

“Fuck.” Joel groans.

TO BE CONTINUED - READ PART 2

Tagging moots and those who I think might like this: @endlessthxxghts @theoasisofthings @bastardmandennis @untamedheart81@lavema @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @dugiioh @nervoushottee @milly-louise @ghostwritesthings@josephquinnswhore @drunk-and-capable @peachmy @survivingandenduring@darkheartgatita @hotgirlbedtimescenarios @dins-riduur-anthe @ohheypedrito @joeldjarin @nerdieforpedro As always, feel free to let me know if you'd like to be added to my tag list, or removed (even if we're moots, no hard feelings). Might transition to a notifs blog soon.xx

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller #pedro pascal character #pedrohub #pedro pascal #new york #firefighter smut #pedro stories

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gilly-moon · 2 months

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After several long days of working like a madman, they're finally complete!! The Shadows & Light series by @not-poignant bound and covered from scratch ♡

This fanfic is extremely near and dear to my heart, and I'm so excited to have a physical copy to pick up anytime I'm craving a reread! This was also my first binding project where everything was self-made, from sewing the pages together to making my own book cloth, and of course designing the cover and putting it all together! It's hardly a perfect binding, but it carries all my love for this series & Blackice in those imperfections.

Thank you Pia for your incredible writing and the permission to print & bind your work!

And as a bonus, a pic of my entire rotg collection ♡

#rotg #rise of the guardians #fanfic #bookbinding #my art #not-poignant

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buckactuallys · 2 months

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pia!!! for the writing prompts: 22 cancelling their schedule just to spend time with them, if that sparks anything! <3

hi nina!!! it took a while but then it sparked something indeed, thanks for sending the prompt <3

hearts will hold

3.1k, [read on ao3]

“Hey,” Eddie says when Buck opens the door, casual, like Buck should’ve expected him. Which he did not.

“Uh, h-hey,” he says. “Didn’t you say you had plans today?”

“Canceled them,” Eddie says easily, pushing past Buck into his loft. “I’d rather be here anyway.”

“Eddie, I–“ Buck closes the door and turns to watch Eddie rummage through his fridge, emerging with two bottles of beer. “What do you mean, you canceled them? Didn’t you have a date?”

Eddie shrugs, opening the balcony door one handed while holding the beers in the other. Buck has no choice but to follow him out there, still confused.

This morning after work, he asked Eddie if he was busy this afternoon, and Eddie said he was gonna see Marisol. It’s not unusual lately, that Eddie can’t hang out with Buck because he’s got plans with his girlfriend. Which is normal and to be expected, but also fucking sucks because, well – Buck has horrible timing and realized some things too late.

“You can’t cancel on your girlfriend for me,” he says guiltily, but takes the beer Eddie offers him anyway.

“Of course I can, you’re my best friend. It just felt like I’d brushed you off too many times lately, and I don’t wanna do that.”

“It’s fine,” Buck says, but he’s not sure how convincing he sounds.

“I don’t want you to feel like you’re not a priority,” Eddie continues like Buck didn’t say anything, and Buck has to close his eyes briefly. Being bulldozed by Eddie’s love and care has gotten so much harder since he’s had his realization. “Because you are. So shut up and let me hang out with you, okay?”

Buck laughs a little. “Okay, okay. I’m glad you’re here.”

“So I didn’t interrupt any plans?”

“Nah,” Buck shrugs. “Was gonna go for a run or something later, but that’s it.”

He swallows down the self-deprecating “Don’t have anyone to make plans with,” before he can say it (he knows it’s not entirely true, but Maddie is so preoccupied with her own family, and everyone else has their own thing going on too, he doesn’t want to bother them), but Eddie hears it anyway, of course.

“I’m surprised you’re not at Bobby and Athena’s right now, making sure they’re recuperating.”

“I’m going there tomorrow,” Buck admits sheepishly, but Eddie looks more pleased than anything else.

“Good,” he says. “And you should come over for dinner this week, you know Christopher can’t go a week without seeing you.”

“You don’t have to make sure I’m…entertained, or whatever,” Buck mutters. “I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can,” Eddie says. “It’s just– you seem a little off, lately. Since the cruise thing, or maybe the breakup. I don’t know, but I worry about you.”

“I’m fine,” Buck says again. “You don’t have to cancel on your girlfriend to check on me.”

“That’s not– Buck, I want to hang out with you. I’d like it if you talked to me about what’s going on with you, but I want to spend time with you regardless of that. I didn’t come over here to check on you, or to interrogate you.”

“Okay,” Buck says quietly. “Okay. Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so touchy today.”

But he does know – he’s tired and grouchy and a little bit heartbroken, and it apparently makes him snippy.

“It’s okay,” Eddie says. “Do you wanna talk about the breakup?”

“Not really.” Buck takes a sip of his beer. “There’s not that much to say anyway. It just became obvious eventually that we didn’t have much in common. Besides the death thing, I guess.”

They’re back in comfortable territory after that, talking the same way they always do, and Buck finally relaxes. He worries about seeming anything less than normal lately, scared to be caught out, unsure about what is his normal around Eddie. Looking back, it seems to him like he’s never been really normal about him at all, but it’s different when he knows.

He’s clearly not doing the best job, because Eddie noticed that he’s been acting strange, but not the worst either, because at least he can’t tell why. And Eddie’s acting the same, so everything is fine.

The next time Buck asks Eddie to hang out, he suggests taking Christopher to California Science Center together that weekend, and Eddie says yes after only a second of hesitation.

“They’ve got a special exhibit on Da Vinci right now,” he says. “It’s supposed to be really cool.”

“You had me at ‘California Science Center’,” Eddie says with a smile, and Buck grins back, already excited to tell Christopher.

“This is so much better than going shopping,” Christopher breathes a few days later, staring up at a model of da Vinci’s Flying Bicycle.

“What do you mean?” Buck asks. “Were you supposed to go shopping today?”

“Yeah, Dad said we need to get me new jeans and shoes,” Chris says distractedly. “And I think Marisol was supposed to come for dinner. But we can do that another time, I like you better anyway.”

Buck doesn’t say anything, because he doesn’t know what to say, to any of the things Chris has just told him. Should he encourage him to make more of an effort with his dad’s girlfriend? But Eddie has never mentioned Chris being anything but nice to her, so it sounds like things are fine – and Buck can’t make him like her more than he does.

And– Eddie canceled his plans for him again? It makes warmth spread in his chest, a pleased little creature stretching in there. As a best friend, he should probably tell Eddie to prioritize his girlfriend, but he already knows he won’t do that. Maybe that makes him a terrible person, but it’s not like he’s telling Eddie to pick him over her. Eddie’s doing that all by himself, and Buck is selfish enough to let him.

A week later, Buck wakes up in the bunkroom with a sore throat and a headache at the tail end of their shift.

When he stumbles up to the loft, Hen only gives him one glance before coming over to worriedly press the back of her hand to his forehead.

“Yeah, you’re definitely coming down with something,” she announces, and Bobby steps around the kitchen counter, a frown on his face.

“Don’t worry about finishing up the shift, Buck,” he says. “Should I get someone to drive you home?”

“I’m okay,” Buck mutters. “Well, n-not okay, but– I can drive myself home.”

“What’s going on?” Eddie asks, coming up the stairs. He pauses at the top, taking in the scene, then rushes to Buck’s side. “Buck? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Buck says, but his voice sounds a bit croaky. “Just think I’m getting sick.”

Eddie presses his hand to his forehead too, then nods grimly. “I’ll drive you home.”

“No, seriously, I’m okay to drive,” Buck says. “I promise. I’ll drive carefully and text you when I’ve made it home and everything.”

Chimney appears in the loft next and they do the whole spiel again, until finally, the others agree to let him drive home by himself. Buck would never go so far as to endanger anyone else, even to avoid bothering his friends, and they all know it.

“Tell us if you need anything,” Hen says. “Anything at all.”

“Food, entertainment, meds, we’ll bring you anything,” Chimney adds. “And text your sister, she’ll want to know.”

“I’ll take you off the next shift, too,” Bobby says, gently steering him towards the stairs with a hand on his shoulder. “Rest, okay? We don’t want you to overexert yourself. And get well soon.”

Eddie accompanies him all the way to his jeep, his arm steady and warm whenever it brushes against Buck’s, and leans against the car while Buck climbs in.

“I’ll drop by later with some stuff,” he says. It’s not a question, but Buck tries anyway.

“You don’t have to,” he says. “I have food at home, I’ll probably just lay in bed and sleep or watch TV until I feel better. I don’t want you to catch anything.”

Eddie gives him a look. “I’ll see you later, Buck,” he says, and pointedly closes the car door.

Buck grins, helpless against it, and starts the jeep.

At home, he texts the group chat that he made it, Maddie that he’s a little under the weather but that she shouldn’t worry and that he has everything he needs, then changes into sweats and a hoodie and collapses into bed.

When he wakes up, it’s to the smell of food and soft clattering sounds from the kitchen. The red numbers on his alarm clock tell him it’s afternoon already, so he slept a good few hours despite the sleep he already got on shift. He sits up, sneezes three times in a row, and by the time he’s blinked away the sleep, Eddie is standing at the top of the stairs, holding a mug.

“Drink this,” he says, handing Buck the mug. “How’re you feeling?”

Buck makes a noncommittal sound and takes a sip of the tea. The truth is that he’s really feeling sick now, stuffy nose, full body shivers, and still that annoying headache.

“Hm,” Eddie makes, touching Buck’s forehead again. “Sorry, bud, I know this sucks.”

Buck closes his eyes. “Kinda, yeah.”

“Well, if you’re feeling up to it, I’ve got some chicken soup on the stove that should be ready soon. You can eat some of it and rest on the couch?”

“I’ll come downstairs in a bit,” Buck says, breathing in the steam rising up from the mug. “Need to wake up a little.”

“Sure,” Eddie says, his hand twitching towards Buck but falling back to his side before it makes contact. “Take your time.”

Buck drinks the tea in bed, then goes to the bathroom before he slowly heads downstairs. His head is pounding now, and sudden moves make it worse.

Eddie meets him at the foot of the stairs, brow creased.

“Come on, sit down,” he says gently, ushering Buck over to the couch and spreading his fuzzy blanket over his legs once he’s sitting. “Are you warm enough?”

Buck smiles a little. “Yeah, stop fussing. You’re such a dad.”

Eddie shrugs, but he’s smiling too. “Can’t help it.”

He gets Buck a bowl of steaming chicken soup and then sits down next to him with a paper bag full of meds.

Buck gives him a bemused look. “Did you do anything today that wasn’t for me?”

“I had the time,” Eddie shrugs. “Christopher had plans for after school anyway, he’s not gonna be home until after dinner.”

“And you didn’t want to use the time to make plans with Marisol?” Buck asks, focusing on his soup instead of on Eddie. He doesn’t want to keep bringing her up, but he feels like one of them has to, or he’s gonna go crazy.

“She gets it,” Eddie says nonchalantly, like he’s not implying that he canceled on her again.

“But…,” Buck forces himself to keep going, “are things still going well with her?”

“There’s nothing wrong,” Eddie says, a little hesitant now. “I’m just also not sure it’s right? She’s nice, and fun, and I like hanging out with her, but…I guess I just– she’s kind of further down on my list than a girlfriend should be.” He shakes his head, then shakes the paper bag in his hand. “Anyway, time to take these.”

So Buck focuses on taking his meds and finishing the soup, rather than the fact that his heart is beating a staccato rhythm against his sternum. It probably doesn’t mean anything. Even if Marisol isn’t the one for Eddie, doesn’t mean he’d consider Buck instead.

And he loves being Eddie’s best friend. He’s so fucking lucky that Eddie picked him to be such a big part of his life. If that’s all it’s ever gonna be, Buck’s gonna find a way to live with it.

It’s just also gonna be hard as fuck, because Eddie is the kind of friend who, when Buck gets sleepy, maneuvers him down onto the couch but doesn’t get up to make room, and instead lets Buck rest his head on his lap.

He runs a gentle hand through Buck’s hair, massaging his throbbing head carefully, and Buck feels his eyes sting.

“Thank you,” he whispers, “for being here.”

Eddie smiles down at him, eyes warm. “Anytime.”

Buck holds his gaze for a few long seconds, watching as Eddie’s smile slips a little and he blinks rapidly a few times before he catches himself again.

“You okay?” he asks. “If you have to go–”

“No,” Eddie says, clearing his throat. His fingers resume their movement against Buck’s scalp. “No, I’m good. Right where I’m supposed to be.”

When Buck wrestles his tired eyes back open a few minutes later, Eddie’s not looking at him anymore. He’s staring off into the middle distance, deep in thought.

Eddie is at Buck’s loft every day for the three days he wrestles his stupid cold. It’s usually just an hour or two, but it makes the entire ordeal much less terrible. After that, Buck returns to work and his regular daily life, spending at least two nights a week at the Diaz house, meeting Maddie for lunch or coffee and helping her and Chim with wedding planning wherever he can.

Everything is completely normal, until it’s not.

On a completely normal Wednesday, on the way back to the station after a completely normal call, Hen turns to Eddie with sparkling eyes and asks, “So how are things with Marisol? You haven’t mentioned her in a while.”

“Um,” Eddie says, looking caught out. He picks at some invisible lint on his pants and says, so quiet they can barely hear it through the headset, “We actually broke up a while back.”

“What?” Hen, Chimney and Bobby ask at the time, covering the fact that Buck can’t say anything at all.

“What happened?” Hen asks.

“I just realized it wasn’t gonna work,” Eddie shrugs. He’s still looking at his knees, alternating with Buck’s like they always do when they’re crammed into the engine, rather than any of them, and his face is getting more and more flushed. “That…I wanted something different.”

He lifts his head just enough to sneak a glance at Buck, who only notices because he’s still staring so intently. Their eyes meet and Buck feels frozen in the moment, caught in his hope and the paralyzing fear that he’s wrong and would ruin everything if he were to ask Eddie.

Then Eddie jerks his head away and Buck sucks in a breath like he’s been suffocating.

“Well, good on you for realizing,” Chimney says, and Eddie looks up to shoot him a crooked grin. His face is still pink.

“I’m sure you’ll find what you’re looking for eventually,” Bobby adds, and Eddie looks down again, but not fast enough that Buck can’t see the little smile that’s on his face now.

“Yeah,” Eddie says. “I think so too.”

His knee presses against Buck’s a little harder, and stays there.

For the rest of the shift, Buck feels jittery and nervous. Eddie doesn’t approach him so he doesn’t either, but he can’t stop staring at him.

Eddie seems pretty normal, just doing his job and shooting the shit with Hen and Chimney like always, but every time he catches Buck staring, he gives him this small smile that’s just different enough from his normal smiles that Buck’s heart keeps skipping beats. This really can’t be healthy.

After the end of their shift, while Buck’s fighting to button his shirt up with shaky fingers, Eddie steps close to him and says, “Come home with me.”

Buck shivers, goosebumps erupting all over his skin, and misses his buttonhole again when he nods jerkily. “Yeah, sure, of course.”

Eddie’s definitely smirking now but his ears and cheeks are pink again, so at least Buck isn’t alone with his flaming face.

They take separate cars so Eddie makes it before Buck, and when Buck finally unlocks the front door, Eddie is nervously pacing the length of his living room.

He spins around to face Buck with slightly wild eyes, then crosses the room in three big strides, coming to a stop right in front of him.

“Tell me if I’m reading this wrong,” he says, and then his hands are on Buck’s face, warm and gentle and safe.

Buck catches on a second before their lips meet, his own hands latching onto the back of Eddie’s shirt. It makes Eddie smile, and that makes their first kiss a slightly off-center, dry press of lips.

But then Buck spreads his hands out on Eddie’s back, pulling him closer, and Eddie uses his hold on his face to tilt his head just so, and suddenly it’s perfect.

“Not reading it wrong,” Buck breathes against Eddie’s lips what could be hours or minutes later, and Eddie laughs a little, tucking his face into Buck’s neck.

“I was really scared,” he admits, and Buck squeezes him, presses a kiss to the shell of his ear and the side of his head.

“Me too, I was so scared I got it wrong. That my hope was, like, making things seem a certain way–”

Eddie runs a hand through his hair, looking up so he can meet Buck’s eye.

“I didn’t even get it,” he says, disbelief coloring his words. “I was already so deep– When you were sick, I told you I was right where I wanted to be. And that was true in a way I didn’t even– I wasn’t aware of just how much I literally always want to be where you are. And then that made me realize some other things, and put them into perspective, so I talked to Marisol–”

“You can tell me about her later,” Buck interrupts, and Eddie laughs.

“Okay. Let me just– I love you. That’s what I realized. I’m in love with you, and have been for god knows how long.”

Buck kisses him, slow and mostly chaste, but he’s still breathless when he pulls back again.

“I love you, too,” he says, touching Eddie’s warm cheek with gentle fingers and watching the way his eyelashes flutter. “I’ll tell you the rest of it later, too. For now, can we just – do this?”

Eddie grins, then tilts his head to press a kiss to Buck’s palm. “Let’s move to the couch first, but then – yeah, we definitely can.”

Buck would follow Eddie anywhere, so the couch is honestly his easiest exercise. And with the prospect of kissing the love of his life on it? He can’t get there fast enough.

#buddie #911fic #911 #buddie fic #pia writes #ask #shitouttabuck

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faithshouseofchaos · 5 months

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Hii! Pia-nor481 here from main (why won’t tumblr let me submit asks with different accounts) anyway

I love the werewolf! Driver universe so much. Can I please request some more Daniel ricciardo, I feel as though I’m starved of this man. Maybe where reader meets another werewolf and he gets all protective.

A/N— Yes live laugh love werewolf Daniel Ricciardo 🤭🫠

@underscoredizzy Hope you like it 🫶🏻

“Your it for me baby” — Werewolf!Daniel Ricciardo x reader

Tagged— @moss-on-tmblr @vivwritesfics @vellicora @venusisnothere @ashy-kit @astraeaworld @alwayzbeenale @badassturtle13 @charlesf1leclerc @crashingwavesofeuphoria @ironcowboycopnickel @dark-night-sky-99 @dudenhaaa27 @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @norrisleclercf1 @natailiatulls07 @norizznorris @hollie911 @lollypop90907 @laura-naruto-fan1998

Daniel was protective of you; it was a werewolf thing. Daniel had to have a hand on you at all times and if he didn’t have a hand on you he had to physically see you. It’s not that he didn’t trust you, he did. It's other people who he didn’t trust. they were unpredictable and dangerous and he couldn’t live with himself if something bad happened to you.

The two of you went to a New Year’s Eve party with a few other drivers and their girlfriends. You were having a good time staying with the girls in Daniel’s line of sight which he was fine with. When you and the girls went to the bar to get drinks a random guy came over and wouldn’t leave you alone.

“Leave me alone. I have a boyfriend and so do they, “ you said, annoyed. “I don’t see a boyfriend,” the guy said, stepping closer into your personal space.

“Try looking behind you,” Daniel, your boyfriend, said. Not happy about the guy being in your personal space

Daniel approached you from behind and wrapped his arm around your waist in a gentle but firm way, pulling you close to him.

“Back off pal.” Daniel’s gaze was sharp and intense and his tone of voice was very serious.

The guy seemed to take notice of Daniel for the first time and his face dropped with surprise and fear.

The guy suddenly looked frightened and took a step back. His voice trembled as he spoke.

“I'm sorry dude, I didn’t know she was taken.”

“Funny because I could have sworn she said something about having a boyfriend,” Daniel said.

The guy's voice faltered as he stared at Daniel.

“Yeah, but...I....I. I thought she meant like a friend.” The guy said

The guy looked as if he were about to say more but Daniel's stare silenced him.

Daniel wasn't going to let this guy walk away and make excuses; he was going to make a point.

“I'm her boyfriend. Understand?” Daniel's voice was low and stern and his glare was chilling.

The guy gulped nervously and nodded his head.

“Yeah, I get it. It’s cool man.” The guy said, starting to walk away in a hurry.

Daniel let go of you and watched the guy go.

After the guy was out of sight, Daniel's demeanor completely changed. He relaxed his tense body and he smiled at you while taking your hands.

“Are you alright? I'm sorry if I scared you.” He asked

Daniel didn’t like to see you upset or uncomfortable, especially with another guy. He wanted you for himself.

“I'm fine. Honestly. If you hadn’t been there though he would have kept harassing me; he was a creep.”

You looked at Daniel with gratitude.

“Thanks for having my back,” you said

Daniel was always so protective of you and he never shied away from confrontation if he thought you were threatened and he was willing to stand up for you.

“You don’t have to thank me for that. What kind of a boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?” Daniel smiled

He liked when you appreciated the little things and how he took care of you.

“I know, but still…” You gave Daniel a small smile

Daniel lifted your hand and kissed your palms, his eyes still locked onto yours. You felt a surge of emotion when he kissed you, you knew he cared.

“Come on beautiful, let’s get back to our friends, “ Daniel said in a soft voice.

You took Daniel's hand and he held onto yours tightly. It was comforting having him by your side. As you walked back towards the others, Daniel kept his arm around you and his head lowered so he could speak near your ear.

“I love being with you. Especially when we get to spend time with our friends. It’s always so much fun.”

Daniel was very extroverted and you appreciated how he encouraged you to get out and socialize. He was also protective of you in social situations; he didn’t like other guys paying attention to you.

“And I love you too Danny”

Daniel gave you a small, intimate kiss on the back of your hand.

“I'm glad you do too beautiful.”

And a feeling of warmth spread through you when Daniel called you beautiful.

His attention was never solely focused on you but as long as you were by his side, he didn't go looking for other women. He never once made you feel taken for granted and he made you feel like you were the only one in the world that mattered to him.

“Let’s go find the others, I'm sure they must be looking for us by now.”

You laughed and Daniel chuckled too, his mood had lightened somewhat. You knew that Daniel's protective side would kick in again if any other guys came near you but until then, it was going to be a relaxed and fun night.

#werewolf!Daniel Ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo one shot #daniel ricciardo x reader #red bull daniel #daniel ricciardo fic #daniel ricciardo f1 #daniel ricciardo icons #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo #daniel riccardo imagine #daniel riccardo x reader #faiths supernatural f1!aus #faiths inboxes 📥📨

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michaelnordeman · 1 month

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Hej Michael, just wanted to wish you the best of luck for tomorrows exhibition in your local library. I'm sure you are already excited and maybe a bit nervous too, but calm down you'll meet many kind people and they'll love your photos, just as your Tumblr followers do. Enjoy! And don't forget to tell us how it went! Greetings from Germany, Pia 🐿️

Hej Pia,

Thank you so very much! The exhibition/talk went very well, and people were very nice to me. Once I started talking about the birds, squirrels, and roe deer, I forgot to be nervous. Hopefully, the small but enthusiastic audience felt (and shared) the love I feel for nature and all its inhabitants. I'm pretty sure I would like to do this again! But it's so hard to choose which pictures to showcase. Anyway, thank you again for your kind words! I appreciate it very much.

All the best, Michael

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stitchpunk1 · 4 months

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YO GUESS WHOS HERE TO TALK ABOUT HAZBIN FANKID OCS BITCHES!

Yeah Ive been wanting to do this for a bit but been super fucking lazy. Got some other fandom ones too I wanna talk about but what with Hazbins first season ending wanna talk about mine with a few tweaks I've done plus one I forgot to add in the last one. I will put this one under spoilers sense the eps just came out and now I have to change shit around till season two for a few of them.

First I have Lucy(used to be Mara and cliche name I know but i like it). She is Charlie and Vaggies kid and named after her grandpa(who spoilers her fucking ROTTEN). Kinda got a design in my head for her that goes with a lamb/goat theme because she is half demon and half angel. Shes got charlies blond hair but more in Vaggies short style and its slightly curly. Shes also got the little hooves, sheep ears and eyes are that horizontal goat type. Like before she is still an absolute artist and loves doing bigger art installations around hell. She ends up dating Husks daughter Heather when they get older.

Second we have Isabella who is by blood Angel and Alastors daughter but her other dad is Husk and sister is Heather. Still got the same design for her that shes a bit more centaur deer like. Shes got the ears(and tail because I'm not giving that headcanon up) of Alastor but with Angels color scheme and fur and kinda a mix of spider claws/hooves(trying to picture her like head/hair in my mind has been a BITCH trying to not just think of it as a carbon copy of Angel). Recently she has become absolutely fucking unhinged as a child in discussions with Musekicker. She is 100% a cannibal and loves to take bites out of people out of pure curiosity of how they taste(leading to many many child leashes that she usually manages to chew her way out of). I like to think that she becomes popular on the hell version of tiktok with cottagecore vibes with a mix of her cannibalism. Dunno why but I like to think that if Alastor sheds his antlers she collects them and makes them into headbands she wears(also uses them to stab people).When older she ends up dating Moxxie and Millies daughter Mable.

Heather is just Huskys by blood and a one night stand but after becoming a couple with Angle and Alastor they become her parents too and Isabella her sister. Every time I think of her design all I can picture is something like Sawyer from Cats Dont Dance. Shes mostly white with a bit of her dads dark grey. Her face all around is just a pure resting bitch face even if she isnt mad or in a bad mood("its literally just my face" is something she has to say a lot). Her biggest secret is how much she LOVES to sing especially musicals and wants to be a stage performer but she thinks she could never make it. She does start to try out in school or any local theater productions thanks to Lucys encouragement. I like to think that after quitting Mammon that even Fizz sometimes does shows for fun and he kinda mentors her after seeing her talent.

Two more to go! Vea is Val and Voxs little accident that they just decide to keep around. She looks mostly like a moth demon but more bluish and sometimes has a little bit of electricity that goes between her antenna. Shes pretty powerful as she can sometimes match Voxs powers if he say fucks around and locks electronics or tv channels. She ends up not exactly running away from home but just kind of wandering away as her parents pay her little to no mind. She ends up at the hotel and kinda taken in by everyone after they learn her story. She ends up becoming the hotels electrician and is fucking terrified of Niffty.

Lastly is one I forgot on my last post who I am not sure what to do with her after the last episode. Her name is Pia and she is Pen and Arackniss kid. Body type she looks mostly like Niss with a little snake tail but she can go full naga like with extra arms/legs when she wants. She has a hood/hair like Pen and is insanely venomous(took me like ten tries to fucking spell that right) do to being half snake/spider. If Pen is in heaven whenever these kids are around she is raised by Niss who stays around the hotel more to take care of her/keep her from his father(who you know is a fucking prick). When he isnt around Angel takes care of his niece. Shes mostly quiet and keeps to herself but she loves weapons of all kinds, being an absolutely crack shot with most firearms.

#hazbin hotel spoilers #stitches ocs #vaggie #hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #angel dust #alastor #husk #vox #valentino #sir pentious #arackniss

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nescaveckdaily · 2 days

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Awww thank you all for being there for me... Its been such a up and down time for me personally, I felt like I was failing at life, at writing, at being an artist, at being a friend, a daughter, sister, a woman, so many things, but I can without a single doubt say, despite what's been going on in my life... Y'all are there, sending me msgs, meme's , epic pics of men, I like, and I love you all so freaking much... Thank you 🥰❤️💖💋💕🩷💞

@k-slla @jackles010378 @angelbabyyy99 @winchesterwild78 @cevansbaby-dove @cutedisneygrl @pia-bartolini - anyone I missed I'm so sorry, just comment below or reblog and I'll tag ya 💞🩷

#failing #adhd problems #adhd things #tw depressing stuff #friends #yall are the best #love y'all 😘

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dylan-duke · 24 days

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liked by brooklyn_cohen, molly and others

row.mcgroarty2 happy happy happy birthday to my boy. so thankful life has brought you to me

view all comments

gabeperreault44 thanks love 🩵 cant wait to celly w/ u

belleesmith god im so incredibly single

ryan.leno_4 happy birthday budddddd

sydneyscales15 party party party tonight!!!

kaylaamartello this is gross

rutgermcgroarty haps man! @gabeperreault44

pia awwww

_willsmith2 my boy! happs

#ryan leonard #gabe perreault #rowan x gabe #rowan mcgroarty x gabe perreault #will smith #rutger mcgroarty #rowan mcgroarty

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kaylinalexanderbooks · 26 days

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OC interview

Thanks for the tag @mysticstarlightduck here and @leahnardo-da-veggie here!

Rules: answer questions as one of your OCs!

This time, I think I'll go ahead and do Lexi!

Are you named after anyone?

“Not that I'm aware of. My parents just really liked the name Alexia. And honestly, I can't blame them! It's a good name. I mean, there are so many variants on the name Alexander. Like I could've gotten Alexandra but that seems a little...I dunno, much? Much. Alexis doesn't...feel right. For me, like, I think Alexandra and Alexis are fine names for people who aren't me. Regardless, I definitely prefer the name Lexi. Alexia feels a little awkward to be called on, like, a regular basis. Again, for me. I'm rambling. The point is, no, I don't think I'm named after anyone.”

When was the last time you cried?

“This morning. I couldn't find my pink pen. Yeah, I know it seems stupid and immature to cry over a pen, but, like, it wasn't like I was upset that my pen was missing, it was the fact that I was stressed over losing it because my pink pen is used to color-code my English assignments. And there's a lot of English assignments, y'know?”

Do you have kids?

“I am in middle school. Middle. Schoooool. Who's even thinking about romance? That'll come with time. Like, high school. And kids much later. Like, after college. I don't have to worry about that right now.”

Do you use sarcasm a lot?

“I dunno. I don't have a record. Sometimes?”

What��s the first thing you notice about people?

“...everything? I dunno, I look at them, and I see them. The whole of them. Is this an attraction question? I already said I was in middle school! I guess height. Like if I look at them, it's either up, down, or straight ahead. Height.”

What’s your eye colour?

“My eyes are brown. Not much to say about them. They're pretty dark brown. My sister has bright blue eyes that really standout against her skin and hair. I'm not jealous, actually, it's just an observation. I happen to like my dark eyes!”

Scary movies or happy endings?

“Happy endings, of course! I love a good happy ending. I mean, sad endings make me sad. Scary movies can have happy endings, I guess. This is a strange question haha. But happy endings.”

Any special talents?

“Well, I am first chair, first violin in my orchestra class! I think I'm a good leader. Usually take the lead on group projects. Um...oh, duh, I play the violin. And I also can organize stuff really well. Good color sense, I've been told. Uh, I gotta garden! It's small, but I wanted to have an out doorsy activity. Brings my anxiety down.”

Where were you born?

“Uh...here in Texas, I think. At least that's what I was told. *Gasp* There's a chance I was born in Alium! I need to ask my pia about that...”

Do you have any pets?

“No. I wouldn't mind one! A dog or a cat would be awesome. Maybe both!”

What sort of sports do you play?

“I don't actually play sports. There'd be a few issues to convince those in charge, anyways, to get me a different uniform. I have haphephobia - I don't like people touching me - and the more skin I show the higher the risk and my anxiety goes up more. So for now, no, we don't want to deal with that. I ride my bike sometimes. If I were to play a sport, it would be either volleyball or tennis, and definitely cheerleading - those girls are so nice!”

How tall are you?

“I am 5'1, meaning I'm about average for my age!”

What was your favourite subject in school?

“Oh! English! I like learning new words - I always have. Phonics may have been my favorite in elementary school! We don't do that a lot anymore, but we still learn a lot more about language. Also, may be biased because all my friends are in my class this year. Well, not all of them. Three of them. Mr. Flanagan also let us choose our groups at the beginning of the year, so I'm always with them!”

What is your dream job?

“I. Am in. Middle school. Why would I be thinking that far? *Sigh* I guess...I dunno, maybe journalism or counseling? I feel like that'd be fun.”

Other interviews: Wade, Jazlyn, Gwen

Other Lexi: OC in fifteen, OC in three, OC questionnaire, two truths and a lie, Picrew, blank bingo

Tagging @somethingclevermahogony @melpomene-grey @squarebracket-trickster @writernopal @writeintrees

@winterandwords @ceph-the-ghost-writer @elizaellwrites @tabswrites

+ anyone else who'd like to play!

TSP intro

TSP tag list (ask to be +/-): @thepeculiarbird @illarian-rambling @televisionjester @finchwrites @nebula--nix

Blanks below cut

Are you named after anyone? When was the last time you cried? Do you have kids? Do you use sarcasm a lot? What’s the first thing you notice about people? What’s your eye colour? Scary movies or happy endings? Any special talents? Where were you born? Do you have any pets? What sort of sports do you play? How tall are you? What was your favourite subject in school? What is your dream job?

^ for easy copy/paste

#the secret portal #tsp #teaspoon #lexi morgan #oc interview #oc tag game #my oc #writers on tumblr #writing community #writers of tumblr #writing on tumblr #writeblr #writeblr community

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agentrouka-blog · 3 months

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I love your blog !! It's such a deep study of asoiaf!

How do you think Cersei and Jaime will end up in asoiaf ??? Do you think Jaime is the valanquor ???

Hi, and thank you so much! :)

My suspicion for Jaime and Cersei is that they will die together. The valonqar is not literal but a metaphor of some kind, it could be Jaime, it could be Tyrion, it could be anyone. And it will be clear only in hindsight, the same way that the Younger More Beautiful Queen is none other than the sum total of Cersei's own horrific choices coming home to roost.

There is a lot of unfinished business between Jaime and Cersei. When readers only consider the relationship from the angle of Jaime's supposed redemption arc (which doesn't exist), it erases the unresolved issue of his relationship with their children and with his own culpability in their toxic dynamic, his apathy toward Cersei's suffering, his sense of entitlement, his self-righteousness. Jaime is every bit as bad as Cersei and always has been, especially in relation to her, and since he has yet to acknowledge that at all, I don't see how anyone can consider their relationship over. The true reckoning is still waiting in the wings.

Here are some posts I've made on the subject:

Jaime and Cersei and mutual betrayal

The nature of their relationship

Rhaella - Cersei parallels

Jaime-Cersei and Rickard-Brandon parallel

Endgame speculation and fatherhood

Jaime, hypocrisy and fatherhood

Jaime endgame speculation

Jaime and Cersei and Beauty and the Beast

Jaime projecting on Pia and Peck

more endgame speculation

Jaime/Cersei and mommy issues through the lens of religious imagery

There are probably more but I struggle through my own lack of organization on my blog. :)

#jaime x cersei #jaime lannister #cersei lannister #anti braime #<- for filtering

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ownedbytaylorswift-13 · 1 year

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yokohama, kangawa, japan | myg x fem!reader

4th

summary: You and Yoongi go everywhere together.

description: You stood in the VIP section of the PIA arena, watching your boyfriend of one year (almost two if you count the seven months he had taken between hooking up and finally asking you to be his girlfriend because the trust issues were strong) give a show. Full confidence on that stage, he turned into a different man when the lights became too bright and the screams of the thousands of fangirls you were surrounded with got too loud, deep down you know you're his biggest fangirl, the fact you get to go home to him was just an amazing plus.

a/n: Hello beautiful human, thank you for taking your precious time to read this little piece of trash, ily, so basically yoongi gives show, yoongi is tired but horny, yoongi and reader det to itttttt. anywaaaayyyys xoxoxo💋💋💋💋.

tw: bad writing, fluff, min yoongi, cringe, alcohol, me, self insert, y/n, badly written smut, just trash.

wc: 3k.

You stood in the VIP section of the PIA arena, watching your boyfriend of one year (almost two if you count the seven months he had taken between hooking up and finally asking you to be his girlfriend because the trust issues were strong) give a show. Full confidence on that stage, he turned into a different man when the lights became too bright and the screams of the thousands of fangirls you were surrounded with got too loud, deep down you know you're his biggest fangirl, the fact you get to go home with him was just an amazing plus.

You new you were being watched, you could feel the stares and camera flashes of a couple hundred girls around you, they recognized you, you would definitely see yourself on twitter tomorrow. You can still remember when the first set of photos of you hugging your boyfriend and giving him a kiss came out, the internet burned, collapsed, and broke records with your names trending all at the same time.

The model, actress, and the newest addition to her curriculum, singer, y/n, and the SUGA from BTS dating. No one could have prepared you for that, nevertheless prepare the world. Although you knew you were being stared down, even though you could feel the jealousy, the flashes, the screams, none of that mattered, because when Min Yoon Gi is on that stage growling, and signing, and kissing his mic because thats what he does to drive you insane from where you are nothing else matters, you just have too watch.

You had been sitting in his dressing room for a couple of minutes, just before the show ended security had brought you backstage. You were mindlessly scrolling through your phone when you heard the door open, you looked up and there he was, breathless, sweaty, and the most beautiful fuck me eyes.

“Hi baby!” You got up to greet him, you hugged him tightly with your arms around his neck, and felt his sweat and breath on your skin.

“Hi, jagi” He half hugged you, his voice was raspy and he sounded tired but once he had an arm wrapped around you he nustled his face into your neck.

“I loved tonight, this show felt extra special, how does it feel to finally close Japan baby?” You stayed in the same position, he didn't answer he just pressed soft sweaty kisses to your neck making you squirm, he straightened up and pressed a good kis to your lips which told you all his thoughts and desires.

“Just wait till we get to the hotel baby,” You broke of the kiss and looked him in the eyes, you gave him a quick peck, he grunted lightly in response.

“Do you need to stay for anything else?” You asked, giving him a little kiss on his cheek before turning to get your bag and your phone.

“No” He answered simply.

“Then lets go, are you tired, yoon?” You asked grabbing his hand and leading him outside.

“Exhausted” you could tell, he was a man of few words and even fewer when he was tired. He was quiet during the whole car ride to all the way to the hotel room, you unlocked the door and went inside, Yoongi always insisting on talking off your shoes when you go in a room made you make a habit, once your coat and shoes were off you walked in further to see Yoongi already in bed, lying over the covers, breaking every rule of outside shoes and clothes.

“You can’t go to bed like that baby, you need to change at least” you said grabbing his hands and pulling him up by his arms, he groaned.

“Come on baby help me out! I can’t carry more than three kilos Yoon, you know it,” Fuck yeah he knew it, he smirked and pulled at his hands, releasing them from your faulty grip, he pulled you in by your waist and captured your lips with his own, you let him. He was laying flat on the bed with you on top of him, the kiss was hungry, passionate, sloppy, after all he was tired.

“How far can I go tonight, jagi?” He asked breathlessly, breaking the kiss for a second then going back again. You completely pulled away from him, your hands on his chest, knees on either side of his hips, breathing heavily.

“I actually wanted to try the jacuzzi in the terrace it looks nice,” You got up and Yoongi looked at you with a face.

“Is that what you want to do, huh?” He said, thick accent and raspy voice igniting something in you.

“Yup,” you said unbuttoning your pants letting them fall to the floor, Yoongi's eyes glued to your body, now that you had taken that piece off, you were left with a matching dior underwear set, “Come one it’ll be fun, you need to relax” You went to pull him up by his arms again, this time he let you.

“Take your clothes off, all of them,” you said and went to get a hair tie, you tied your curls in a high pony, and walked outside, the temperature was nice, not hot but not cold.

“Are you coming?” You turned to Yoongi who was still inside. He walked outside, he was only wearing boxers and they had small tent in them. You turned around.

“Can you help me baby?” You said getting closer to him.

Yoongi cleared his throat before speaking, “Mhm, yeah, yup” You smiled at his slight nervousness, he unclasped your bra and took it off, throwing it to a chair near you. He turned you around, slowly, then just looked at you.

“You’re perfect” He cupped your breasts testing the weight of them, then lightly squeezing, you let out a small whine, he kissed you. You let your hands rest on his waist slowly travel down to his boxers waist band, you hooked your fingers on it and pulled lightly, he nodded still kissing you and you pulled them down, he broke the kiss to kick them off, he then hooked his fingers to the waistband of yours and pulled the waistband before letting it go, he was looking directly in your eyes when you felt the light sting.

“Take them off” You said, putting your hands on his shoulders, but before you could travel to his neck he started pulling your panties off while he got on his knees, your hands remained on his shoulders he was eye to eye with your cunt.

“You’re fucking beautiful, put your leg on my shoulder, jagiya” He wrapped his hand around you left thigh and pulled it up, you placed it on his shoulder as he said and tried to balance yourself with his shoulders. You could feel the cool air and his hot breath at the same time directly in you wet cunt.

“Yoongi, please” You made him look at you, cupping his face with your hands.

“Please what, jagi?” His eyes were shining, he was going to make you say it.

“Please lick my pussy?” You weren’t going to play hard to get tonight, he already was face to face with your most intimate part, nothing could make you embarrassed around him anymore.

He smirked and then placed a kiss to your clit, his hands traveled from your thighs to you your ass and lower back while yours traveled from his face to his hair and forearms. He was impossibly close to you, you suddenly felt his wet, hot tongue lick a thin stripe from your asshole to your clit, he did it again going from your entrance to your clit and then again flattened his tongue on your clit. You whined and gripped his hair making him groan. He quiet literally made out with your pussy, and you were a complete mess over him, you had stumbled back and ended up sitting on the edge of the jacuzzi further opening your legs letting him eat you out.

“Gosh Yoongi, you’re so. fucking. good!” You were crying out his name, and the moans wouldn’t stop, you felt too good. His hands were on your hips but one slowly traveled up to massage one of your boobs, pinching the nipple, you were shaking. His mouth traveled from sucking on your clit perfectly to poking his tongue in your vagina until he was fully fucking you with it, the hand that wasnt playing with your nipples started rubbing in light small circles at your clit, all while looking at directly in your eyes, all of that was to much for you and you threw your head back, moaning his name, closing your eyes.

“Look at me or I will stop,” Yoongi said, his voice firm and clear, you looked at him and he resumed his actions, making you heave. You could feel heat in your face, pure heat, your lower abdomen was on fire, the feeling was unexplainable, a rush almost, you could feel his wet tongue, his saliva mixing with your juices as you heard the obscene sound of slurping and lapping, your nipples were rock hard and it all felt fucking amazing. Your heart beating at one thousand per second, it was hard to keep your eyes open but you held on because you knew that meant he would stop, tingles traveled from your cunt to the ends of your hair, your hands were shaking, and your thighs trembling around him, you could feel that hot feeling right on your cunt

“Yoongi I’m so close, please don't fucking stop, don't stop baby, please! ungh make me fucking cum!” You were loud, so loud you might get a complain, but who the fuck cares about a noise complaint when Min Yoon Gi has his tongue buried in your count, nose rubbing at your clit with everyshake of his head, and he looks like hes the one getting the oral of his life. You tightened your grip on his hair and grind your pussy to his mouth.

“Yeah, fucking use me, ssi-ssi-bal” He said fast, in a raspy deep voice, almost raw, and went back to absolutely destroying you with his tongue, the accent, the curse words, the effort he was putting ino making you feel good, and those damn eyes that make you fall to your knees, finally became too much and you fell completely apart on his tongue, crying out shamelessly, the most beautiful release to him. He licked you clean while you whined then helped you into the jacuzzi.

“Be careful jagi,” He used his strong hands as support to help you in the jacuzzi, your legs a wobbly mess. You hissed when the hot water touched your pussy, still very sensitive from your mindblowing orgasm. Yoongi followed right after and you got full view of his rock hard, big cock, flushed, leaking ready to be shoved into your pussy and pound you stupid.

“Like what you see?” Yoongi chuckled lazily. You blushed and looked away, even a smile tried to creep into your mouth but you puckered your lips to stop it, he got in the tub beside you and pulled you towards him, the water giving him full advantage to handle you as he pleased. You were completely seated on him, your ass on one of his thighs and legs facing to the side, you held onto his neck with your hands.

“Hi,” You said, looking at him with doe eyes, biting your lip softly.

“Hi, jagi” That nickname made you melt, you were dizzy, you couldn’t help it anymore and finally kissed him, rather softly instead of hungry or lustful like before.

“I love you baby, so much” You said in between kisses.

“I love you more jagi, I know I don’t say it often, it’s a little hard for me to fully express it with words sometimes, but you’re the most important thing in my life y/n” He said, holding your face, making you look him in the eye.

“I love your accent, it’s so cute, I love you Yoongi more than anything” You scooted closer to him until you felt his hard dick barely against your leg and kissed him. He grabbed your waist and kissed you back, you pressed your chest together and your nipples were soft due to the warm water.

Your hands were playing with the hair on the back of his neck, but you let one hand stay there and another travel down slowly, first to his chest, you softly flicked his nipple and then pinched, he let out a noise and you used it as and opportunity to slip your tongue further and heat the moment even more.

Your hand moved even lower to his soft waist and tummy, caressing and softly racking with your nails, until you finally got a hold of his rock hard dick. Yoongi pulled away and gasped when he felt it, the grip on your waist tightened and he pressed your foreheads together as his brows scrunched.

“Is this okay baby?” You squeezed the base of his dick.

He nodded fast “Y-yeah, yes, please jagi, don’t tease me,” Yoongi looked like a work of art, flushed pink because of the hot water and the sinful actions, lips red because of how much you had been kissing them, eyes and eyebrows scrunched. You had moved to sit on his lap, straddling him, knees in either side of his legs, one hand on his knee, balancing yourself, and the other one steadily stroking his dick, just how he liked it, medium to slow speed and lots of pressure, special attention to his head.

You were watching his every move, his head was thrown back, he was biting his lip and scrunching his brows, you assume to not let out a lot of noise. He didn’t like to be noisy, it made him a little embarrassed, but how you loved it. You moved your hand from his knee to his neck, and straightened his head making him look at you with those pretty eyes of his. His mouth was now slightly open, eyes glossy, struggling to stay open. You moved the hand in his dick from stroking to massaging the head with your palm and he made the prettiest little noise while scrunching his gorgeous face.

You pressed your self closer to him, the base of his cock was touching your clit, “I love the noises you make baby, they turn me on so much, don’t hold them back please,” you kissed him again, playing with him until he was crying out, you let go of his dick.

“Y/n, jagi, please don’t stop,” He was breathless as he said that and at the same time he squeezed your hips and rocked you back and forth, both of you moaning at the friction of your clit and the base of his dick.

“Baby, I want you inside me, now, please fuck me Yoongi, right here,” You were desperate to feel him inside, you stood up from his lap and dragged him with you to the other side of the tub, where the city was in full display for you. You gripped onto the edge of the pool and placed your knees on the step that was supposed to be for sitting, in that position your ass was half on the water half not, but on full display for Yoongi, you looked over your shoulder and saw Yoongi placing his hands on your ass spreading your pussy, he teased your clit with his fingers before inserting them in your pulsing hole, making you gasp, you could hear how the water moved with every thrust of his two fingers, in one of those thrusts he decided to keep the fingers deep inside you and rock them back and forth and in circles, you choked on his fingers, the noises were as dirty as they got.

“I’m going in aegiya, are you ready?” He said and placed a kiss to your cheek, his fingers long gone from your pussy making you clench around nothing.

“Please baby,” You answered, he aligned his dick with your entrance and slowly thrusted himself in and cursed in his native language when he completely bottomed out, after a couple seconds he started to move but you quickly stopped him still not used to the stretch.

“A-aish…I don’t fuck you for two weeks and your pussy gets all tight, jagi” He whispered in your ear, completely still buried in you, he teased your clit and placed kisses along your neck while you got used to his cock.

You knew even before you saw him that he was going to be big, every time you were out with his friends and he happened to be there, the way he would confidently be present, mysterious and quiet, when he wouldn’t say a single word to you, not even hi when you’d hang out with Jungkook or Joon, but would just sit near, but still far away manspreading, you felt bad for doing it the first time, when your curious eyes inevitably traveled down to his soft dick that formed a bulge in his loose pants, you only could imagine how big he’d be fully hard, you remember the embarrassment of him clearing his throat and you looking up to him smirking, making you immediately turn away embarrassed your friends in common completely unaware of the little moment, but since then you knew that he was big, and you also knew that one day you’d had the pleasure to have him stretch you out completely. Exactly like right now, skin slapping, calm bubbly water turning to waves, high, pitchy, and whiny cries of pleasure coming out of you and deep soft groans and the occasionally deep moan from him, he was hitting every spot perfectly, going so deep you could feel him in your chest.

“Fuck yoongi, fuuuuuuck!” Along the way your words became incomprehensible and started to just sound like moans and groans, you felt his hands squeeze at your hips and lightly slap at your ass from time to time, soon you were close, very fucking close, and you knew he was too, one of his hands traveled back down to your clit, his chest was pressed against your back and his cock was impossibly deep inside you, all you could feel was warmth an pleasure, the cool on the wet spots of your skin that weren’t in the water, Yoongi’s dick hitting your sweet spot like his life depended on it, one of his hands playing with your clit, the other with your nipples and boobs, his hot breath and deep noises directly in your ear, along with his demands for you to come with him, now.

“Sarang-aauh, s-sarang-hae, y/n” You could feel his cum shotting deep inside you, he groaned and moaned in your ear while you clenched around him, he was still fuckign you through both your orgasms dragging it out.

“I love you too, Yoongi, so much,” You said when you finally catched your breath, he was still inside you but almost limp above you. He slowly pulled out of you and sat down, he pulled you to his lap and kissed you deeply.

“Y/n, I love you” He said in between a kiss, one of his hands was on your waist the other on your face caressing. You pulled away from his kiss, he followed your lips but you stopped him by placing your hands on his face keeping him in place.

You have him another peck, then squeezed his cheeks which formed a pout and kissed him again, “I forgot to bring towels baby,” You said and kissed him again.

“It's okay, I’ll bring them,” You got off him and he started to get out of the tub to get towels and you couldn't resist the urge to slap his cute little round butt, you watched as he flinched and his ass jiggled.

“Hey! I could’ve fucking fallen y/n!” He said, turning around dramatically.

“Get the towels! I'm getting cold!” He rolled his eyes (He couldn’t even roll them properly) then went to get towels, he came back with a towel wrapped around his hip. He handed me a towel as you got out, the cool air perking up your nipples, you we’re fully out of the tub and with both feet in the ground slightly shaking he wrapped the warm towel around your body and hugged you to him, he kissed your head and rocked you back and forth before walking you inside.

You were lying in bed, dry, naked, under the covers making out, the kisses were soft and deep, you were holding the other close, you both felt like there was a warm buzz in your chests settling with the aftermath of your orgasms lulling you to sleep.

“I love you” was the last one thing you heard, you half answered back and felt a light kiss on your forehead, and finally sleep took over.

NEXT CHAPTER->->

JAPAN INDEX

D-DAY TOUR INDEX

#min yoongi #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi fluff #suga x reader #suga #bts army #bts yoongi #bts fanfic #bts smut #bangtan #min suga #suga x you #suga bts #agust d #yoongi

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buckactuallys · 1 year

Note

Pia pls, something with "sweater weather" 🥹💛

frida, it's 32°c outside and as far from sweater weather as it could be, but this was very fun to write, thank you 💘

send me a soft prompt

[read on ao3]

Winter in LA isn’t cold by any means, and having grown up in El Paso, Eddie should be used to lower temperatures – but he’s been living in LA for six years now, and clearly he’s become used to LA temperatures instead.

So when he wakes up on a cold December morning and the other side of the bed is cold, he grumbles unhappily as he gets out from under the cozy blanket, and looks for a sweater to put on over his sleepshirt.

He finds one of Buck’s thrown haphazardly over the back of the chair Eddie has in his bedroom, and pulls it over his head. It’s soft and smells like Buck, and Eddie breathes in deep once before going on the search for the man himself.

He finds him in the kitchen, leaning against the counter holding a cup of coffee and reading a book. His back is halfway turned, so Eddie gets a good look at the bold letters spelling out DIAZ on the back of the sweater he’s wearing. His stomach does a somersault and he pads into the kitchen, causing Buck to look up from his book.

“Hey,” he smiles, putting down the coffee and lifting his arm so Eddie can tuck himself under it in search of Buck’s warmth.

Once he’s wrapped around Buck completely, his cold nose pressed to Buck’s neck, he mumbles, “Morning.”

Buck presses a kiss to the side of his head. “You okay?”

“I missed you,” Eddie says, and doesn’t even feel ridiculous for it. “The bed was cold without you.”

“Sorry,” Buck says. “Do you want coffee?”

“In a minute.”

Buck lets his book close without putting a bookmark in it and wraps his second arm around Eddie too. He’s barely taller than Eddie, but sometimes Eddie really likes being tucked against his side like this, kept safe from the world. Especially when the world is cold and gray, like today.

“Love you,” he says eventually, lifting his head.

Buck smiles and meets him for a short kiss. “I love you, too. Coffee now?”

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, reluctantly taking a step back. “Thanks.”

Buck presses the button on the coffeemaker he’s programmed to make Eddie’s coffee (perfectly, unfortunately, which is why Eddie hasn’t thrown it out yet), and turns back to look at him again, a slow smile spreading across his face.

“You look good in my clothes,” he says, and Eddie shimmies his shoulders a little to make him laugh. It’s true he’s wearing a pair of Buck’s sweatpants too, which he forgot when he grabbed the sweater, but it’s not like they don’t share clothes all the time.

They sit at the kitchen table with their coffees, feet tangled under it, and start planning their day.

Breakfast in a bit, once Christopher is up, then laundry, grocery shopping and maybe some Christmas shopping, evening plans to be determined once they know if Christopher’s got any or if he’ll be spending it at home with them.

Buck gets up to look in the fridge and start writing their grocery list, and Eddie watches him, the same somersault feeling in his stomach as earlier.

“You look good in my clothes too,” he says, and Buck looks at him over his shoulder from where he’s half sticking his head inside the fridge. “You look good in my everything.”

Buck’s smile goes a little confused. “I– thank you?”

Eddie shakes his head with a laugh. “I just mean– you look good in all of my things. My clothes, my kitchen, my bed, my house. My life.”

Buck closes the fridge door and turns around to face him fully, eyes soft. “Eddie–”

“I love you,” Eddie barrels on, “and I want you here with me all the time. You should move in with us.”

“Yes,” Buck breathes, and he’s crossed the kitchen within a second, cupping Eddie’s face between his hands and sliding onto his lap. “Yes.”

Eddie has half a mind to worry about the chair – or maybe a quarter, because the biggest part of his brain is focused on Buck in his lap.

“Yeah?” he asks, hands running up Buck’s thighs on either side of him to settle at his hips.

“Of course,” Buck says, and he’s smiling so wide his eyes are almost disappearing. “I hate leaving here.”

“And I hate when you leave, and I know Christopher does too.”

Not that Buck leaves much, these days. Honestly, this is more of a formality at this point, but Eddie really does hate whenever Buck goes to the loft instead of coming home with him, so he can’t wait to be rid of the thing.

“We can throw out your bed and move mine here instead,” Buck suggests, and Eddie glowers at him playfully.

“What’s wrong with my bed?”

“Come on now, you know mine is more comfortable. And bigger.”

Eddie, who spent a lot of time in Buck’s bed especially in the early days of their relationship, when Buck still felt awkward knowing Christopher slept just down the hall, does know that.

“Okay,” he agrees. “I guess we can keep your bed.”

“Make it our bed,” Buck says, and Eddie wants to make fun of him for being a sap, but he’s pretty sure his face is showing exactly how much he likes it.

“Sap,” he says anyway, and Buck’s hands that have migrated to Eddie’s shoulders, move back up to his face.

“You love it,” he grins. “And you’re just as much of a sap, Mr “You look good in my life”.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Eddie says happily. “You’re moving in with me anyway.”

“I am,” Buck crows. “You’re never getting rid of me now.”

“Good,” Eddie says, and tilts his head up.

Buck gets the hint and bends down to kiss him, softly at first and then deeper when Eddie opens his mouth and pulls him closer by the hips. He runs a hand up Buck’s back and feels the letters on his sweater under his fingertips.

He never wants to get rid of Buck, no. He’s gonna marry this man.

#buddie #911fic #911 #buddie fic #pia writes #ask #leothil #frida tag

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multi-fan-dom-madness · 6 months

Text

Chapter 30: Me'dinuir (Second Chances - Hunter x reader)

Me'dinuir. v. to share, to give to each other

Chapter Summary: You and Hunter share the night together.

Chapter Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, here be smut; filth with feelings, slightly possessive Hunter, gn!reader so can be read as PiV or PiA, oral (m and gn receiving), nipple play (both receiving), some action outdoors, slight teasing, inebriated sex but they'd both give enthusiastic consent sober, confessions; if smut ain't your thing you can technically skip this chapter

Word Count: 3,278

a/n: jeezus I guess when I said 'slow burn' I fuckin' meant it. here we are folks, 100k+ words in and they finally get to fuck. I hope the buildup has been as worth it for y'all as it has been for me >:) I love these lovesick idiots. enjoy! <3

< Previous chapter | Next chapter >

You nearly race to get home, arousal already beginning to pulse deep in your core. Hunter never lets go of your hand; electricity buzzes where his skin meets yours, static shocks of affection jumping between you when you turn to meet his darkened gaze. Tipsy or not, you can’t deny the overwhelming desire for the man beside you, the soul-deep need to connect with him in a way so intimate that you nearly become one.

By the time you reach the courtyard, you’re panting and flushed, both from the near-sprint home and from the promise of Hunter’s lips on yours. It seems he’s just as affected. You don’t even make it to the front door; Hunter tugs your hand to spin you around, and presses your back against a nearby palm tree. Bracing himself with one arm above your head, he releases your hand to slide his around your waist and tug you closer. His eyes are pinpricks of light, barely shining in the moonlight that sends his hair cascading like dark silk toward you.

Chests flush, you lick your lips. “What about the rule?”

“D’you really care about it?” he asks, withdrawing a hairs’ breadth.

“Kriff no,” you say. “Teasing.”

“Thank the Maker,” he murmurs.

And then his mouth is on yours. Feverish and intense, his lips move against yours in a frenzy of passion, making your head spin. Resting one hand on his toned waist, you card your fingers through his curls with your other.nHe tilts your head for better access, tugging your bottom lip between his teeth. Arching into him, a pleasant shudder dances through your body, fanning the crackling flames of desire into a blaze. Groaning into your mouth, Hunter’s hand slips from your back to cup your ass, his fingers squeezing the soft flesh.

You gasp, need seizing your lungs. “Hunter.”

“Shh,” he coos. “I’ve got you.”

Nudging your face to the side with his nose, he presses hot, open-mouthed kisses across your cheek to your ear. He tugs your earlobe between his teeth, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your body. Nipples stiffening under the loose fabric of your tunic, you moan softly. Hunter continues downward, his lips suckling at the soft skin of your neck, sure to leave a trail of light hickeys. You couldn’t care less.

As he laves attention to your sensitive skin, you scrape your nails lightly across his scalp. You’re rewarded with a deep groan. Grip on your ass tightening, Hunter pulls your hips flush against his own. You groan, head lolling to the side as he finds that patch of skin that drives you wild, and let him guide your hips in a slow roll over his clothed length. He’s hard already; the outline of him against your core feels big, and your mouth waters at the mere impression of its size.

You guide his face back to yours to kiss him again; he parts under your tongue immediately, your wet appendages meeting and dancing together in a heated, desperate rhythm. Arousal courses through you, slick and hot, nearly as dizzying as the berrywine you’d drank. Kark, you need this man—tonight has been a long time in the making, every step on the journey to get here one you wouldn’t change, not if it means you’d always end up here, kissing like you’ll die if you stop.

Hunter’s other hand finally caresses you, sliding down your back and over the curve of your ass, to hook under your knee. His other hand mirrors the action. In one smooth movement, he lifts you; you wrap your legs around him, arms securing around his neck, as he turns to carry you inside.

He ducks through the front door, dipping you down so you don’t hit your head. Only once you’re over the threshold to your bedroom does he set you down. The bedrolls you’d spread out earlier await, a small lantern putting off faint, white light. Along one wall, the window facing the ocean remains partly open to catch the sea breeze.

In the lantern light, Hunter’s eyes gleam. His gaze rakes over your body, and despite still being fully clothed, you feel exposed, bare to him. Goosebumps prickle along your arms.

“Stars, I need you,” he murmurs. His tattooed hand cups your face.

Leaning into his touch, you press a kiss to his palm. “I’m here. I’m yours.”

His eyes darken. “Say it again.”

Lips parting with a silent moan, you search his gaze and find the same desperate desire there that lingers under your skin.

“I’m yours, Hunter.”

He crashes his lips against yours once again. You cradle his face in both palms, delighting in the shiver of pleasure that skitters through you at the thought of feeling his stubble elsewhere on your body. Reaching up with one hand, you gently tug on his bandana; it slides free with little resistance, and you toss it to the side.

Hunter slips his hands beneath the hem of your tunic and undershirt; his skin is warm against yours, and you shudder. Eager, and wholly impatient, you wrench the offending garments over your head, letting them join the red scrap of fabric on the floor.

Breaking away from your kiss, Hunter sighs in contentment. His gaze wanders your bare torso, leaving a trail of fire where you imagine his eyes alight. His hands aren’t far behind his eyes; his thumbs brush lightly over your stiff nipples, and you gasp.

“Please,” you mumble.

“Please what?” he says, looking up at you from beneath a curtain of dark curls.

You shake your head, coherent thought trickling away by the second. “Just. Need you. Now.”

“Lay down for me, mesh’la.” He helps you lower to the floor, the bedrolls doing little to shield from the chill of the wooden floors or from their stiffness, but you don’t care about that right now. As he kneels beside you, Hunter smooths his hands over your bare skin, down your front, to hook his thumbs in the waistband of your pants.

A silent question creases the furrow of his brow. You nod. He tugs the waistband down, and you angle your hips to help him slide your pants down. Shuffling to your feet, Hunter gently pulls your shoes from your feet before removing your pants altogether. Arousal aching in your core, you realize he’s left your underwear; more than that, you realize he’s still fully clothed.

“Hunter,” you whine. “Undress for me.”

“Patience, sweetheart.”

He obliges, though, at least partly. Once he yanks his green shirt off, he crawls up your body, his toned muscles rippling beneath his tanned skin. A groan rips from you at the sight. All your time aboard the Marauder, and you’ve somehow managed to avoid seeing any of the boys even partially naked. As you suspected, Hunter’s tattoo covers the entirety of his left side, inked ribs and vertebrae standing in stark contrast to the rest of his skin. Ghosting your fingertips over the ink, you catalog the way he shudders when you reach his collarbone, the way his abs tense when you trail over his ribs, the way his lips part in a nearly silent whimper as you rake your nails over his pectoral.

“Wanted this for so long,” you murmur.

His eyes find yours. “Tell me.”

You hum in thought. In reality, you’re not sure if you can pinpoint a specific instance, a moment frozen in time as the one where you knew. As you ponder it, Hunter’s gaze never wavers from yours as he lowers his mouth to your skin once again. He presses kisses to your chest and down your breastbone, before licking a stripe up to one of your nipples. He fans his warm breath over the bud, and you moan brokenly.

“Tell me, cyare,” he repeats, “please.”

You laugh breathlessly. “C-Can’t think when you’re doing—oh, doing that!”

His lips seal around your nipple and his teeth graze over the sensitive little bud at your words. A smirk tugs at his features, and you can’t even be mad, because the pleasure shoots straight to your core.

Then he pulls back, lifting himself on his knees and hands so none of him touches you. “That better?”

“No,” you admit. Sucking in a deep breath, you finally answer his question: “You’ve always been attractive to me, but I think the moment I stopped wanting to fuck you and started wanting to make love with you was Quantxi.”

A smile graces his features. “Would you like to know what moment it was for me?”

Nerves flitter in your stomach, but you nod.

“I’ve had feelings for you since Bescane,” he admits. “Started as a crush. Seeing you stand over my brother like that, protect him, even though you barely knew us, that...really did something to me.”

You laugh, body flushing with a new kind of warmth. “When did it become serious?”

He relaxes back down until his forehead rests against your breastbone, his hair tickling your skin. “Quantxi.”

Gently caressing his jaw, you lift his face to meet your gaze. He offers you a small smile. For a long moment, the two of you stay there like that, staring into one another’s eyes. In your chest, in that strange little spot that’s always felt physically tethered to him, you feel something burst.

You prop yourself up on one elbow and tug him up to you with your other hand. His kiss is soft, sweet; your heart squeezes in your chest. Before, you’d been rushing yourself, worried that if you didn’t do this as quickly as possible, the chance would slip away like smoke. But now, all you want is to take your time. To pick him apart at the seams, let him do the same to you, and retie yourselves with bits of one another’s threads. Pulling him flush to you, you hook one leg up around his hips to drag his length against your core.

“F-Fuck,” you mutter. Nibbling at his neck, you set a languid pace, using your heel to encourage him to rock against you. The friction is delightful, sending zings of pleasure through your entire body. Hunter groans, pressing his forehead to your shoulder, breathing coming in heavier gasps.

“Feel good?” you ask.

He nods. “Very.”

“Let me make you feel even better,” you say.

Rolling both of you, you straddle his hips, sitting up to catch your breath. Stars, the way he looks up at you like you hung the very stars themselves makes you melt. Gliding backward, you undo the clasp of his pants and remove them from his body much like what he’d done for you—but you’re sure to catch the waistband of his underwear, fully baring him to you.

You moan shamelessly at the sight of his cock. Thick and tall, the flushed tip beads with precum and the entire length bobs gently in time with Hunter’s heartbeat. Mouth watering at the sight, you breathe through your nose. Take your time, you remind yourself.

Starting at his ankle, you string kisses, licks, and nips up his toned calf to his thick, muscular thighs. Nestling yourself between his legs, you gently massage his thighs as you urge him to silently part his legs around you.

“Cyare,” Hunter breathes. He sounds wrecked already, and you haven’t even touched him.

“Relax,” you say with a smile.

Impatient with yourself for teasing him this long, you lick a broad stripe up his stiff length from base to head. Hunter’s abs tense, his body bowing forward, as a moan punches out of him. You wrap your fingers around his cock and begin slowly jerking him off. You suckle at his head, teasing his frenulum with your pointed tongue, smirking at the way that he flops back on the bedroll. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, groaning.

“Fuck, you’re so- so good at that,” he whimpers.

You hum around his tip in response. Taking him a bit further into your mouth, pride swells within you as he moans. One of his hands searches blindly for you, before resting on top of your head. Bobbing your head, you use your hand to reach the parts your mouth can’t. The more you suck him off, the more spit drools out of you, slicking your grip. Hunter writhes, shallowly thrusting his hips up into your mouth. In the cool night air, his own nipples have stiffened; you can’t resist the impulse to reach up with your free hand to tweak one of the pert buds.

“Oh!” Hunter jerks his head up to meet your amused gaze. “D-Do that again, please.”

Not one to deny him, you oblige, twisting his nipple lightly. Beneath your hand, his chest vibrates with a deep groan. His eyes fall to half-lidded, lips shiny and swollen from your earlier kisses. Desire pulses within you, hot and thick, desperate.

Pulling off him with a wet pop, you wipe your mouth on the back of your hand. “Good?”

“‘Good’ doesn’t cut it,” he says with a breathless chuckle. “Let me return the favor.”

“You don’t have—”

He presses one finger across your lips. “I want to.”

Lowering you onto your back once again, he laves kisses down your front as he shuffles down. He pulls your underwear down, discarding the garment to be found later, then settles himself between your thighs much like you’d just been between his. Balanced on your elbows, you bite your bottom lip at the sight of him there.

“Relax, cyare,” he urges. Then his mouth is on you. Bliss explodes through you; you hadn’t realized how much your arousal needed attention until this very moment, and now you never want it to end. Hunter’s mouth is warm and wet on your aching arousal, his ministrations doing little to bank the fire raging in your core. If anything, his actions stoke the flames higher. His lust-dark gaze never leaves yours. You twist your fingers through his hair, desperate to feel more of him.

He reaches with one hand and presents two fingers to you. Wrapping your lips around the digits, you slick his fingers with your spit, moaning in pleasure as he settles into a rhythm that has a wire tightening within you. Hunter withdraws his fingers and, never ceasing the pleasure his mouth brings, gently presses his spit-wet digits into your tight heat. You hiss at the intrusion (it’s been far too long, you think to yourself), but the momentary pain fades when he crooks his fingers against your walls.

“H-Hunter,” you gasp out. “Hunter, fuck, don’t stop.”

He hums against your heated core, the sound vibrating through you. Chest rising and falling with each rapid breath you heave, that wire in your core winds tighter and tighter, threatening to snap at any moment.

Hunter pulls back at the last possible moment. With a frustrated, aroused groan, you slump back against the bedroll. Sweat dews your skin, and lust simmers deep in your core. Above you, Hunter spits into his hand, slicking his cock.

He looks like a god. A fine sheen of sweat coating his body, his muscles flex and ripple with each jerk of his length, his dark curls sticking to his forehead. The ink of his tattoo casts his left side into deeper shadow, but you know the spark of light, love, and life that burns within him. Your heart stutters when he grins at you, adoration sparkling in his eyes.

“Ready, sweetheart?” he asks.

You nod. “Please.”

With some shuffling, you catch your legs behind your knees to spread them for him. He rests the blunt head of his cock at your entrance, and then, meeting your eyes once again, slowly pushes into you.

Your world narrows to Hunter’s gaze and the pressure in your core. Breath hitching, a moan spills from you as he splits you open. He groans your name, your real name, in quiet, heated pleasure; you shiver at the sound of your name falling from his lips. He grips one of your hips, pushing himself in and tugging you down onto his length until he’s fully seated within you. Chest heaving with labored breaths, Hunter’s nostrils flare as he fights to keep his composure.

Pleasure burns in your core, sharper and sweeter than before. Reaching for him, you wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace as he lowers into a classic missionary pose. The change in angle presses him just a bit deeper; you choke over a moan as his cock nestles against the bundle of nerves in your walls. Stars burst behind your eyes.

“Please,” you whimper, “make love to me, Hunter.”

“Stars, yes,” he whispers.

He thrusts into you slow and deep, unhurried, languid. You wrap your legs around his waist, locking your ankles together to drive him deeper. Every rock of his hips makes both of you moan and gasp, pleasure squeezing your lungs and heart. Folded over you like he is, the friction of his body and the press of his cock within you draws that wire tight once again. Keening low in your throat, you tighten your grip around him.

“Gonna make me cum,” you mumble.

“Good,” he nearly growls. “Want you to fall apart for me.”

“Whatever you want, my love,” you whisper.

He drives his cock into you a little harder at your promise. Moans punch from your chest with every thrust. Hunter adjusts his grip on you, grabbing your ass to give him better leverage. Whining, you scrape your nails down his back, arching into him as the pleasure in your core winds ever tighter.

And then that wire snaps without warning. Your body stiffens, pleasure flooding every nerve ending. You’ve never felt this good before, never felt so full, so close to someone—and you’re so glad it’s Hunter making you feel this way. For his part, Hunter moans brokenly against your ear, thrusting one, two, three more times before stilling within you. His cock pulses with his own orgasm, his warmth filling you.

It takes a long moment, but eventually you come back down, panting, bodies stuck together from sweat. He trembles in your embrace, and you rub circles into his back, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear until he stops shaking.

When he raises his head, his face is streaked with tears. Alarm trills through you.

“Maker, are you okay!?” you ask. Wiping his tears, you turn his face side to side. “What happened?”

“I’m fine,” he says with a thick laugh. “Just—” Your full name falls from his lips again like a prayer. “I love you.”

Concern cools in your bones, solidifying into ice that shatters just a moment later as your brain computes what he just said. The pair of you remain frozen. Lips parted in surprise, you can’t help the shuddering breath that escapes you, your own tears welling up.

“Hunter—”

“You don’t have to say it back,” he says quickly. “It—I—I needed to say it.”

Cupping the back of his head, you pull him down to meet your lips. This kiss is tender, soft and affirming. You try to pour all of your affection for this man into your actions, the press and pull of your mouth against his. When the kiss breaks, you don’t let him move more than a few inches away, tears thick in your eyelashes.

“I love you, too.” You stroke his cheekbones. “Hunter, stars, I love you so much.”

He buries his head into the crook of your neck again, his smile wide against your skin. “I-I don’t know what to say next.”

“Then don’t say anything,” you soothe. “Just stay here with me, like this.”

“Always.”

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#tbb hunter x reader #hunter x reader #hunter x gn!reader #second chances #rhiwrites #tbb x reader #the bad batch x reader

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